


Dynamics of a War

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Category: Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Big Bang Challenge, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Plotty, War Era, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a more G1-slanted take on Shattered Glass. We start at the beginning with the leaders, and build a verse that might not be quite the mirror you expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Botcon Shattered Glass has become a staple of the idea of what Transformers' MirrorVerse might look like, and has been expanded on time and again in fanfic and magazines alike, yet there is as much room for exploration there as in any of their other canons. Many takes on a MirrorVerse demand a complete inversion of the source material, but in this one, it is more of a 'what if' scenario. We've taken aspects of canon personalities, such as Starscream's past as a scientist, or Sunstreaker's artistic nature, and brought them to the forefront within the web of Shattered Glass's writing. Concepts from various canons exist, such as the Overlord, the Senate, Primus...and we've kept them in the same alignment as in a 'normal universe'. Switching the various characters on that backdrop is enough for us to paint our story.
> 
> 2, **Violence on large scale, character deaths, atrocities against individuals and groups alike will be present. This is a story set inside a violent, nasty war, so please bear that in mind if you choose to read.**
> 
> [Dynamics of War Fanmix](http://katharos.dreamwidth.org/39345.html) by ((Highly recommend this mix, by the way))

He had always been inquisitive, searching out the mysteries of their race. They were an ancient race, Optronix knew, but sometimes the information he uncovered left him puzzled. Why had they never had a population crunch in the distant past? Where had all of their contacts with various worlds come from? There were so many questions, and while he was told time and again that it was just the way they were, he wanted more concrete answers to his questions.

As an archivist, he intended to know his archives, inside and out, to be able to answer such questions. Nothing but perfection would suit him, after all. Day in and day out, he pored over the oldest texts in his care, studying them, referencing back when one would point to an older source. He found conversion programs that let him translate the data of older works to modern code, thus preserving them for future generations, learning the whole time.

Then he found the lists.

He wasn't sure what the lists were at first, as they were coded in a language it took some time to find the right decoder for. Once he had, what he saw on the lists made his processors overheat. There were lists of 'wanted for purchase', lists for 'limited terms of lease', and far too many lists that were, in actuality, manifests for the purchase and shipment of goods.

The goods in question were mechs and femmes and even Emberlings, to be sent far and wide in the galaxy as slave labor.

"This cannot be," he murmured in shock at the whispers of the past.

`~`~`~`~`

The more Optronix studied, the more he learned. Their race had never been intended as more than a slave race. They were meant to be owned by distant masters, used and worked until their Embers burned out, then discarded as refuse. His Ember cried out in rage at the injustice for every single Cybertronian that had deactivated far from home, no matter that it had been eons before, that the planet had found its independence and kept it.

All of Optronix's research indicated the nameless masters still existed out there, and could strike back, to reclaim their property. The very thought of it was vile in his processors, as he could see his peace-loving people were far too complacent, that they would be easily enslaved. There were few mechs or femmes in the military, a mostly defunct organization strictly used for show. Even the Seekers, with their long-range exploration and mysterious ability to transform themselves into flying vehicles, were pacifists in extreme.

This knowledge burned inside of him, pushing him to find some way to do something about it. When he felt he might very well go mad from knowing and being helpless, he turned to the other archivists, seeking an ally to help them take the findings higher. His optics lingered the longest on Juvenox, his friend since third upgrade.

Juvenox would understand the concerns, and did share lineage with some of the political class. He would be most helpful.

`~`~`~`~`

"Juvenox, I wish to speak with you." Optronix caught up and walked beside the other archivist.

Juvenox turned to the side slightly, blue optics glowing slightly with concern for the sharp, uneasy tone in Optronix's words. "What is it, Optronix?"

"I have been researching our origins, and I have discovered terrible threats to us." Optronix was quite sincere in his words. "We must make these threats clear to the upper society, the political body, the military!" His tone was shading toward alarmist, reacting to the vivid threat in his processors' analysis of the situation.

"Steady, Optronix. Come and tell me what you've found, and we will discern a course of action that suits your findings, yes?"

Optronix felt his emotive reaction was perfectly on par, but if Juvenox was to listen, he could modulate himself. "Very well. Shall we go to your domicile and I shall lay out the facts of our dire peril?"

Juvenox nodded, and put out a hand to him, intending to lay it on a shoulder as they walked. He had rarely seen his friend anywhere near this emotionally disturbed, and he did wonder what his old friend had found that had upset him so badly. Optronix clenched several gears in place at the touch, before forcing himself to relax. This was no slaver, no alien menace. This was his friend.

Except, the readings had told him that the prefects of the slaves were often trusted Cybertronians. He glanced sideways to Juvenox, wondering, as he had wondered before, if perhaps the prefects and slavers still communicated, waiting for the Cybertronians to become so complacent that they would be pure profit again.

Juvenox let them into his home, shutting the door behind them, and looked at his friend with concern written across his features. "Energon? Or would you rather tell me what you've found first?"

Optronix inclined his head a little to the suggestion. "Perhaps refreshment is in order." He watched, though, as Juvenox prepared the energon.

He brought both energon slips to the wide bench he meant to share with his friend, offering one to him as he settled in. Optronix accepted, sipping lightly, almost instinctively running it through his sensory analysis. It wasn't that he meant to be paranoid; he was only concerned that his one voice of sanity might be silenced before the facts were fully in the open.

"Thank you." He nodded over the slip. "Now, what I have found is a disastrous threat if it is left unchecked. I have found evidence, old friend, that we Cybertronians were created strictly as a servile race."

"Optronix... we were created how many epochs ago?" Juvenox asked, tipping his helm to the side as he listened. "Our earliest history has been lost for more mega-cycles than anyone knows, where on Cybertron did you even find these records?"

"In the archives, Juvenox. But I tell you the threat they represent is real." Optronix's optics glowed vibrantly as he felt that weight pressing on him, that he had to succeed. "All of my research indicates they remain out there, the ones who made us, the ones who sold us as slaves, to die far from Cybertron."

The other mech had never seen his friend so vibrantly _alive_ , so intently focused on a single piece of data... and that in and of itself was disturbing, given what the data was. For Optronix to have focused so intently on this ancient information, something he had found buried so deep within the archives that no other archivist had any inkling of its existence or truth worried him greatly. His friend had always been brash, slightly arrogant, focused on his career and advancement. This was new, different, and very concerning. "Perhaps they are still out there," he said, willing to accept, for the moment, that Optronix's research was the solid, precise work that it always was when he finished a project. "But surely, if they thought that our race could somehow be used again, they would already have struck, would they not?"

"I believe they wait. I believe, from what little I can find before the information has large amounts of censorship, we rebelled, and now they wait, until that spark dies out within our Embers. They wait for us to be...electrosheep, easily culled, taken to market, and profited off of," Optronix told him. "Look at our military, barely there for pomp and circumstance. Look at the Seekers, who so rarely bother to go beyond our own system! Masses of quiescent mechs and femmes, waiting to be slaughtered or captured!"

"Quiescent is surely overstating matters, Optronix," Juvenox protested, shaking his head. "Yes, we have had long eons of peace -- successful and prosperous eons of peace as well, remember..."

"Successful? Prosperous?" Optronix processed those against the equations he had done, of known planets, of the import and export between Cybertron and the known galaxy. "I think you have failed to see that every bit of effort we sell away from here advertises us as ripe for conquest. Our abilities with energon, what we manufacture...all of it invites those sadists to return!" Optonix drew himself up straighter on the bench. "We are at risk, and there is no way to fight it! Not unless..." His voice trailed off, seeing the possibilities opening ahead of him. He could rise to the threat, become what their world needed! It would make all Cybertron his, if he saved them from the threat they could not yet see!

"Optronix... how did you find this?"

Optronix considered, trying to remember, and then the data came to mind. "I came across a reference that had no appropriate antecedent, and followed the fragments I could find to the source."

"That must have taken you entire jours..." Juvenox said, as intrigue flickered along his cognitive processors. Optronix's ability to track the most obscure of sources was well renowned, but such a long process as he was describing. "You must have had to write some of the decoding software on the fly, the ancient languages are difficult at best to parse..."

"Indeed. I was able to find some decoders, stored with older records, but even they needed secondary language step translators." Optronix was pleased that his persistence had been noted. "I feel the decoders were there to help future generations work the warnings out, but somewhere along the line, the information chain was broken." He dropped his vocal tones. "Perhaps even deliberately."

"Deliberately? Who would do such a thing? To deliberately obscure data..."

"The only ones who would profit, those who are furthering us into a peacefully quiescent state, ripe for plunder," Optronix said, optics blazing again in the earnestness of his belief in the crisis he foresaw.

Juvenox shook his helm, disbelieving. "Surely we are hardly that, Optronix..."

"Juvenox, we are!" Optronix surged forward, optics blazing vividily with his convictions. "We have become a weakened state, dependent on power-mad senators and ancient relics to decide our fates, to drive our progess...yet, we go nowhere! We stagnate, and learn nothing! Soon, I feel, the slaving race will return to reap the reward, unless we make a stand now!"

"If there were such a race still, do you not think that we would have heard of them from one of our allied species?" Juvenox asked, his helm tipped to the side slightly as he listened to his long time friend's words, the wild blaze in his optics frightening to the peaceful researcher.

"How do we know the allied races don't work for them? You've seen how they covet our strength, how they seek to sign more of our young mechs to long term contracts?" Optronix eyed the other researcher in suspicion. "You protest everything I say. Why? I see a threat, and you paint it in doubt."

"I suppose because it seems so preposterous, Optronix," Juvenox replied, shaking his head. "You said yourself that you had to completely remake some of the decoding, that the records were ancient beyond belief..."

" _Preposterous?_ " Optronix's voice went soft, almost inaudible at that repetition of the word, before he studied the other researcher carefully.

"Well, yes," Juvenox replied, one hand turning slightly in a shrug. "I've never seen you be wrong in your research, but it seems almost more than I can take in, Optronix."

"I think you are in league with the hidden spies," Optronix told him, matter-of-factly and calm, resolute. His thoughts tread over the logic with blinding clearness. He had chosen the wrong mech to confide in, and all his plans were now in jeopardy, unless he eliminated the risk.

" _I_? Optronix, when was the last time you allowed your processors a good defrag cycle?"

"I am sorry, that you feel this way, Juvenox. It has been very good knowing you, to this point," Optronix said, rising, his bulk massive as he loomed over the still seated researcher.

Juvenox pushed to his own feet, the spark in his old friend's optics now actively frightening, and shook his head, "'To this point"? What do you mean, Optronix?"

"I must protect our people, at any cost, you understand." He looked at the surroundings, glancing about for anything that might serve as a weapon. His optics lit on a piece of art, a decorative metal spear from one of the more primitive cultures that Cybertron traded with.

"Optronix, old friend, do you _really_ believe that I would ever betray our people?" Juvenox asked, shaking his helm, reaching out for his arm.

Optronix ignored that reach, as he lifted the spear off its hooks, inspecting it. "Juvenox, there must be a new way on Cybertron, to insure that never again is our race at the mercies of another. Can you see that?" His voice was calm, and it looked for all intents and purposes that he was only tracing the intricate design inlays on the spear's shaft.

"What kind of a new way?" Juvenox asked, his intakes running fast with the way his processors were spinning, attempting to follow Optronix's suddenly mercurial tempers...

"A way that is open to embracing violence, old friend," Optronix told him before his entire upper body spun, momentum and rage at being mocked, at being doubted driving the metal shaft with deadly force through the thin plating over the Ember's cavity within the researcher's chest. It pierced true, catching the other mech completely off guard.

"Op -- Optron.. ix... whyyy?" the last word was almost entirely the flat, metallic sound of fans spinning to a halt, dying tone of an offline'd droid more than a truly Cybertronian word, as vibrant blue optics fluttered into blank gray, frame toppling to the floor of the quarters.

Optronix looked at his handiwork, then at the metal shaft protruding from the chestplates. "Well, I do think that's one weakness I will have to modify, Juvenox. Thank you for showing me how easily pierced the Ember is." He then stepped past the body, knowing in this day and age, it would be blamed on the lowlifes, no investigation truly made, and some miserable mech rounded up off the street for the crime.

Those same riff-raff mechs would be the nucleus of his vision, Optronix decided as he left the home for his own.

`~`~`~`~`

Megatron drew his hand up to the brow-ridge of his faceplates, rubbing hard enough that he could hear the grind of the dermaplating against dermaplating, glaring at his computer terminal as he tried to make the forecast models change by sheer force of will. As they had for the last two solar revolutions, however, the numbers stubbornly refused to alter. No matter what variable he changed in his calculations, they all led inexorably towards one final answer. That answer, however, was both illogical on every level and so dangerous that it could hardly be fathomed.

He reached for the control panel, tapping in another algorithm, one more weighted to account for the foreign influence Cybertron had been flirting with, still trying to convince his processors that there was something wrong with the data he had been using. He walked away, making a long circuit of his laboratory space, and returned only when the terminal informed him that it had run his latest computation. He returned to the monitor, and read through the data -- that had been the wrong change, the predictions only spun faster towards disaster with the greater foreign influence.

He had tried every possible permutation of the population data, the currents the predictive sciences tracked... and every algorithm he wrote led to the same answer.

War.

Civil war on Cybertron, within the next vorn's passing.

It was the rumbles in the undercity, the quiet rumors of change, the low whispers of a new leader... these were some of the factors his models saw. Other things -- energon use, foreign trade again, the conditions in the under-city... those, as well, pointed towards tumult.

His colleagues dismissed the gossip as just that, only rumor, nothing truly worthy of note, only the dreaming of the lower classes. He thought differently. He had found the same phrases too often, in too close a conjunction to other murmurs of discontent, to believe they were without basis, and his modeling algorithms were the best of any on the planet. Somewhere within Cybertron's planet-wide cityscape, rebellion was brewing.

The only questions were... where would it truly begin, and what could be done about it?

He had prestige and influence, but only within academia, not within the political circuits of the planet -- and though he had every faith in his own research, he knew he would never convince his higher-ranked colleagues. And if he could not convince them... what chance did he have of convincing the rulers of their world?

He would simply have to try again to sway his colleagues.

`~`~`~`~`

Leviticus looked up from his data pad as the door signaled that his appointment had arrived. "Come in," he said authoritatively. It was time to put a clear end to the hysteria that this professor was fomenting. A shame, really, that such great minds were given to processor failure in such unique fashions that good old-fashioned debugging processes did not work.

Megatron walked in, the door cycling shut behind him again, and he tipped his helm slightly to the side, interested but not particularly hopeful over this particular summons -- given that it came from one of the oldest of the 'old guard' in the sciences.

"Sit down, Megatron." Leviticus would give the brilliant mech that much courtesy, but this nonsense had to end now.

Megatron settled into the offered chair, looking across the desk between them. "You wanted to see me, Leviticus?"

"I did." The amber optics of the old professor bored into the young one's. "Megatron, you are a truly gifted mathematician. The theoretical work you have done is beyond reproach on many facets." He could give that much praise, easily. "However..."

Megatron's dental plates slowly started to clench together, though he kept his systems cycling perfectly easily and steadily. So, this was going to be yet another attempt to convince him to be silent. He would listen through it, at least -- Leviticus was well thought of, it would be unwise to disregard him, and if he could only convince him...

"...your radical theories and supposed statistical 'proof' of a crisis ahead are completely unfounded and needless propaganda designed to draw attention to yourself. Unwelcome attention for our university, I will add, has been the only true outcome. As of this interview, you are to cease proselytizing your inane theorems in this regard." Leviticus shifted heavily in his chair, leaning forward with a firm glare that had been said to melt the Embers of first decacycle students. "Or, I promise, there will be...professional repercussions."

//Slag. That.// Megatron's blue optics flared with bright fury as he glared back at the older mech, the accusation that he wanted some kind of personal attention enough to make him straighten to the height he rarely fully used. "On the list of my reasons, personal attention falls _lowest_ on the scale. I would be _more_ than relieved if anyone could tell me that I was wrong with more than 'it has never happened, and so it will never happen!'"

"Megatron!" Leviticus rebuked. "This is not a discussion. It is not open for interpretation or discourse. You have been told what you will do...or else."

An almost entirely unfamiliar fury coursed hot down Megatron's circuitry, sending his processors to a faster spin, as he pushed himself to his feet. This was more than he had expected, and it was so massively incorrect that it did truly enrage him. "I will not be silent, nor silenc _ed_ \-- and I expected better from an institution that has always encouraged freedom of thought and endeavor. I will leave, as I will **not** be thrown out and that is obviously the direction you intend to take -- you may take that as a resignation, effective immediately... and we shall see, within the next vorn, which of us is correct.

"I hope you are, Leviticus... I truly do."

Leviticus did not let the vague sense of regret overpower his indignation that this young upstart thought he could throw everything away. "You are a fool, Megatron, to throw away an esteemed position for fanciful notions!"

"No, Leviticus, I am not," Megatron said, his voice steady despite the edge of fury and hurt running along his systems and the heat blazing in his Ember. "I am simply more concerned for Cybertron than myself, as we all should be. Be well, my teacher."

Leviticus had no answer for that, as he turned his processors to the more important tasks of which students were in need of discipline and which should be honored for their advances.

Megatron walked out of the office, his optics narrowed to thin slits, to go and pack up his office. This would make things infinitely more complicated, as without his status as a professor he had no particular ability to be heard or to influence... but it would not be impossible. It could not be impossible -- his world's well-being depended on his ability to find a way.

`~`~`~`~`

Sideswipe paused in the doorway of Sunstreaker's workroom, keeping his frame quiet as he watched his twin painting, the peace only Sunstreaker ever brought him settling across his Ember as he watched the brilliant colors fixing themselves to the still plascreen from his stylus. The light coming in the transparisteel windows reflected off his twin's frame, and Sideswipe couldn't help but smile at the way that sometimes Sunny lived up to his name without trying at all. Sunny was caught up in creating -- a bomb could go off, and he'd never hear it, not when he was painting. Sideswipe could watch his brother work for hours, but one of the speeches from the latest rising star in Cybertron's politics was tonight and he wanted to go. He'd heard some of what Optronix had to say, caught off the newsfeeds and the gossip, but he hadn't seen the mech in person yet. Tonight was the night he could change that... if Sunny got to a point he could call his attention away from the canvas. He shifted to lean against the doorframe and wait.

He waited until Sunny's hand was well away from the plascreen to speak, "Sunny."

It was a good thing he had, as the stylus jerked in his brother's grip, Sunny whipping around on the ball of one foot to stare at him, breath coming fast for a moment. "Sides, you startled me... how long've you _been_ there?!"

"Not long at all," Sideswipe lied easily, shaking his helm a little, "just long enough to know you were starting to come back to the real world anyway."

"Sides," Sunny protested, putting the stylus down to come across the room between them and wrap an arm around him, gold and black of his helm settling perfectly into place against Sideswipe's chest and throat. "I know you better than that. What is it?"

"Not long, bro, I swear," Sides told him, hand stroking down the back of his brother's frame. "There's a speech tonight, Optronix is suppos --"

"Don't go." Sunstreaker said, lifting his head up to look at his twin's gold optics, his face intent. "I don't like what I hear from him, Sides, don't go."

Sideswipe shook his head, hating that he and his twin weren't united on this, but slag it, Optronix had some ideas he really liked, that spoke to the wildest parts of him. "But, Sunny, he's not wrong, we _could_ be more, we _ought_ to have mo --"

"Why?" Sunstreaker asked, steady and to the point as he so often was, his blue optics shining faintly. "We have a good life, Sides, why do we need to push for more?"

"Good? When's the last time we had a really full tank between the two of us, Sunstreaker?" Sideswipe asked. "When's the last time we went up into the Towers and didn't get looked at like we were there to take their precious things? Or treated like we should be doing menial work for them, not setting up your art?"

"Sides," Sunny said, shaking his helm, reaching up to cup his hands around his brother's jawplates, "You're overreacting, twin. They're not all that bad, even up in the Towers. There are pain in the afts everywhere, you know that. I know you're not always happy, bro... but Sideswipe, how is violence going to make that any better?"

"When they see we will fight for ourselves, change has to come," Sideswipe told him, his tone sharp with fervent belief in what he'd heard, what was promised. "That's what Optronix is all about. Making change happen!"

"And what about everyone that gets caught in the middle, Sides?" Sunny asked, tipping his head to the side. "You've always been the fighter of the two of us..."

"I'll always look out for you..." Sideswipe protested. "We're not in this to hurt people who haven't hurt others... but things have to break in order to be recast into something stronger!"

"Sides, 'we'?" Sunny questioned, shaking his helm again. "You haven't even really _seen_ him, and you're already throwing into his faction this hard?"

Sideswipe took a deep breath. "Let me go, let me listen to him. Maybe you'll be right, and I won't like it. But I need to go."

"...when have I ever been able to stop you about something you really want, Sides?" Sunstreaker asked, hand sliding back behind his helm, around his neck.  
"Alright. Go. I'll be here when you come home, twin."

Sideswipe pressed the front of his helm to Sunny's then, both hands gripping his brother close to him by the shoulders. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Be safe, twin," Sunny said softly, arms sliding down around his brother's waist, before he let go.

"Always," Sides told him with a cocky grin. "Nothing's happening to either one of us, ever!"

That brought an answering smile up past the worry on Sunstreaker's face, laughter and pleasure writing their way across his faceplates. "Good," he answered, and finally let go.

Sideswipe turned to go, certain he was doing the right thing.

`~`~`~`~`

Ironhide stamped the final report clearly, then growled softly to himself at the stack of data pads he had completed. Commander of the garrison indeed! What kind of job was this for any warrior mech? Cybertron hadn't seen an offensive, or even a defensive, action in an eon!

"Commander?" came a nervous voice behind him, as his aide-de-camp entered the office. "Someone is here to see you."

"Which Senator wants his intakes revved this time?" Ironhide snorted in disdain.

"His name is Optronix, aide to the venerable Overlord," the nervous young mech said. "Should I show him in?"

"Do I have a choice? Yes, of course, show the tourist in," Ironhide said in irritation.

The aide-de-camp disappeared, and a few moments later led in a darkly colored mech. Ironhide particularly noted that the newcomer carried himself far more balanced than most mechs, and that there were a few ports that radiated 'hot' to the warrior's senses.

"Commander Ironhide, I am Optronix, aide to the Overlord." The large mech did not offer to clasp hands, and Ironhide noted that the positioning of the frame was very defensive. Curious now, Ironhide indicated a seat and nodded.

"What brings you to the garrison?" Ironhide demanded, using his most bombastic voice to see if he could rile the other mech.

"You." Optronix did not so much as flinch at the tone of voice.

 _That_ caught more of Ironhide's attention than he wanted to admit to, the thought that this newcomer had come looking for him -- he stood down on that edge of pleasure, and fixed the Overlord's aide with sharp optics. "And what brings our political master's aide to me?" //A mech they'd all rather forget even exists, so they could stop paying lip service to any idea of our ever doing anything?//

"What if I were to tell you that war is coming, Commander? That you will be called on to help...purge the military of those who are here for want of glory and who is here because it is the only place to go?" Optronix watched him steadily, weighing all his reactions. "I must know who will fight to protect Cybertron, and who will quake in fear instead."

"I'd tell you I don't know what got slipped in your energon, but nothing _my_ people have heard says anything about conflict coming, except from that dross-brained professor the university sacked," Ironhide replied, his voice sharp, as he raked his gaze over the other mech. The thought of true battle teased below his conscious thoughts, the hunger for it pouring through his Ember, but the idea was so slagging preposterous that he could hardly take it seriously. "And the day they're outmaneuvered by a political hack, I'll deactivate them myself."

Optronix smiled, a cold wave of security in his next words. "Commander, take my word for it. War will come. The question, I should now ask, is if you have the gears to do what it necessary to make sure the strong emerge from the ashes of the weak. Surely you have seen the pacifists and the sheepicrons lead now. That none of them would withstand a proper campaign to see Cybertron restored to full glory and a strength so rigid that no one could deny her majesty?"

Air blasted from Ironhide's vents, his temper seething at the words. "Oh, I've seen every last mewling little Emberling among them, protesting that surely we've "advanced past" such "barbaric necessities" as my entire _class_ , as all of the weapons we've designed in the last hundred thousand vorns, as though none of it matters," he thundered, nearly getting up to pace with the fury and insult of it.

"You'd like to see that change, I can tell," Optronix said, his optics pulsing vividly. "I wish that change to come, and I see the way for it to happen! War!"

"Oh, Ah'd like to see it change," he agreed, the precise control he'd kept over his naturally drawling voice slipping with his temper, "but a war takes two sides, and where in the Pits are y' gonna find them on this peace-minded planet?"

"First, my friend, we will need to show this peace-minded planet how to fight again," Optronix told him steadily. "The forces must be culled, and the resources gathered. Then...then we shall find our opponents. Those who will react to not having our brute strength for their needs, those who are out there, waiting, wishing to keep us as the sheepicrons we have become!"

"An enemy outside?" Ironhide asked, his optics narrowing to thin slits, interest pulsing hot within his Ember as the thought of a stronger, truly powerful army and, more, a powerful Cybertron sang to it.

"You will see, as soon as we turn Cybertron in a force to be reckoned with, that there are ancient forces beyond our system, eager to try and kill us all." Optronix raised his optic ridge in invitation. "Walk this path with me, Ironhide, and see the primacy of our kind at last?"

"Even assumin' Ah believe you," Ironhide rumbled, "what makes you think you know enough about war to have say in it, Optronix? And what kind of name is that, for someone that wants to change the world?"

"I will have no one follow me who is not strong, yet...I am wise enough to know the strong only answer the strong!" Optronix's optics flashed pure crimson in the next moment, as all those 'hot spots' blazed with power for just a moment. "Believe in me, Ironhide, or fall as nothing more than a cinder when I choose the time to ignite the fires of change! I shall be first, and no one will be tolerated who cannot see my dream is the way for Cybertron to ascend!"

Ironhide's own optics widened at the power that blazed from the other mech, and it drew powerfully on his Ember, craving for that, for the challenge and the power it offered, battle-lust rousing deep inside him, and his fists clenched. "I don't follow _anyone_ tamely," he rumbled in return, his voice seething, "but I like the sound of what you're offering."

Optronix smiled, vicious and cruel, as he looked at the Commander. "Ironhide, follow me for the chance to be all you were created to be, call me First, and you will know your Ember's greatest dreams in due time! For, as you said, I will need a powerful advisor in the ways of war!"

Vorns upon vorns of slights, indignities, and slowly being forgotten flashed through Ironhide's processors, and his optics blazed as he nodded once, stretching a hand out, finally. "You have one, with the offer you're making."

Optronix took that hand, showing his powerful strength in the clasp, but not making it unduly punishing. "Optronix does not suit your senses then? What shall we do about that, for the name history will record with that of Ironhide?"

Ironhide saw his dreams, the best of all possibilities, laid out in this mech who wished to be first, and smiled slyly. "Optimus Prime."

`~`~`~`~`

Starscream was overjoyed at the marks he had received so far in all his courses. The professors thought he was brilliant, and his thesis was under careful consideration by some of the most renowned scientists in all Cybertron. He had brought a sense of prestige to his lineage that more than made up for the scandal he had caused in returning without his bondmate.

His steps faltered as he remembered Skyfire, remembered how the transport class shuttle had believed in him enough to push him to enroll before that last journey. They had planned to blaze new trails in science, to come up with better ways to utilize the energy of their world. Skyfire and he were going to be the next wave in energy applications, so that all Cybertron could enjoy the limitless supply they dreamed of!

"Starscream?"

For a moment, caught up in his past, he could almost believe the deep voice was his mate's. He turned, though, as his processors caught up to his present, to see a ground mech he did not recognize. That was not so unusual; outside of his classmates and professors, Starscream was of the elite Seeker class, and rarely mingled with those who merely walked.

"Forgive me, but I do not recognize you, or that sigil," Starscream answered, quite politely and keeping his voice to a soft level. Ever since that storm on Solus Three that had taken Skyfire from him, his always-high ranged voice had taken a near hysterical twinge to it, if he was not careful to modulate it.

"I am Optimus Prime, and my sigil is that of the Autobots." The large ground mech watched Starscream with an edge to it that made the Seeker edgy, made him long to take to the air. He was accustomed to admirers, even since he had taken the white and red scheme of his fallen mate for his own, but this was different. This was covetous and promised nothing more than lust. "I have heard of you; indeed, all of Crystal City speaks of their prize."

Starscream felt his faceplates heat, caught up in the flattery and the thought that it was not actually that untrue. It had become a rare thing for a native of the city to excel this strongly at the University. "They overstate the case, I am certain."

"Hardly. I have followed your work from its earliest inceptions, in your first year classes." Optimus Prime stepped a little closer, causing Starscream to wish harder for a polite reason to leave. "You have a grasp of energy manipulation that could make you a firm asset to my cause."

That was an opening that might lead to an exit, Starscream could see. He was as non-political as he could be, barely aware of how the government functioned beyond the need to pass basic courses. "And your cause?" he asked politely, letting a little of his strident tone through, as a further deterrent to extended conversation.

"We Autobots believe that no mech should be enslaved, not by anything, anyone, or any fate," Optimus Prime informed him. "We need people who can think freely toward my goal of our freedom!"

The rhetoric in that made even the privileged Seeker's processors ache. "We are a free society, citizen. I do not think you have need of a simple engineering scientist who has not even graduated."

Optimus Prime leaned down into his face, red optics locking on amber ones. "You only think we are free, caught in your noble class and its pursuits!"

"I see no signs of oppression, citizen." Starscream waved a hand at the cheery campus. "Please, go. As I said, I have not even graduated yet. Perhaps then, when time has tempered your view, I will have a career you can see suits me far better than a dream built in the sands of imagination!"

Optimus Prime reared back, as if the Seeker's airy dismissal had been a physical blow. "You would deny me?"

"I do not see the smoke trails you so plainly do," Starscream verified.

Those crimson optics narrowed, then the mech nodded his head once. "You are not graduated yet, and perhaps the smoke is not visible yet... but both of these things will change." He walked away, leaving Starscream vaguely amused on one level, and worried on another for some instinctual level he could not place.

`~`~`~`~`

Crystal City's claim to fame was its prestigious university, and graduation was something of a city-wide event, no matter how few of their citizens had actually made it through the classes to their dream. When the highest graduating honors had fallen not only on one of their own citizens, but one that already had the backing of a prestigious lineage of Seekers, the city knew no bounds for celebration. Graduation was held in the largest forum for gatherings, and so much of the upper decks were taken up by the flying class, while more swirled in the air, celebrating Starscream's status as the class's star pupil.

//If you could see me now, Skyfire,// Starscream thought, with only a twinge of the sadness he usually thought toward his mate. He held his head high, refusing to give way to the terminal shyness he was prone to. //I proved we could do it.// Seekers, so known for sensuality and absent-mindedness, did struggle under a handicap when attending classes. After all, no other mech had to contend with having sensors over seventy percent of their exposed chassis, and the resultant constant feed of external data. Starscream's gift was being able to control that, to handle the data stream and subvert it into useful statistics in his research.

The ceremonies began with speeches, as was customary, and Starscream's attention did wander, taking in the various mechs flying above, or resting on the upper decks. He spotted Cloudburst, Mercury, and Jolt up there, cheering him on. That they were here would have meant so much to Skyfire. They had all grown up together, after all, and Cloudburst had done what he could to look after Starscream after that last mission. It was as if all of Crystal City were here, with Seekers of every lineage as well!

No one noticed the first muffled thumps before the gates of the forum burst inward, and in strode a large mech flanked by two others. Of them, Starscream recognized the largest as the mech that had approached him midway through his courses. Optimus Prime, he thought in a flash of his processors. The one on his left wore black, red, and blue paint, the lines of his helm broken by a pair of rounded flanges, like the 'ears' of some organic species he had seen in his explorations, his upper frame showing the wide shape of one of the sleek hovermechs. On his right was one of the heavier-bodied bulk-haulers, a vaguely horrifying matte black from foot to center-flared helm.

"You dare intrude on..." The protests of the head of the university security was cut off as the matte-black one swung a heavy arm out, crushing the chest plates in.

"Ironhide," Optimus Prime said in a warning tone. "Be civil. We're here to collect our latest recruit, after all."

"Waste o' time. Just pick him out and bring him along," the other, smaller mech said with a cold smile.

"No, this one... he recieves honors today, from them, and from us." Optimus strode across the forum to where the graduates milled uncertainly. "Starscream, you are graduating now!" he hailed the Seeker, as if this were perfectly normal.

"You are interrupting the ceremonies," came the small voice of one of the femme chancellors. "If you wish to be here, I am certain seats may be had."

"There will be plenty of seats, depending on the answer to my question from your star pupil," Optimus Prime told her evenly. "Now, business. Starscream, are you ready to take your place in my army?"

"Army?" Starscream asked, puzzled and feeling cold fear settle around his Ember. This mech was insane. Maybe he should have reported the previous incident to the proctors. "Optimus Prime, I tell you again, I will not espouse insanity as my career."

"Truly?" Optimus Prime looked at Jazz. "He said 'no'."

"I'll take him for you," the smallest of the three said, eying the Seeker in front of them.

"No, Jazz. Ironhide, proceed." Optimus Prime looked into the optics of his chosen prey.

"Ratchet, activate phase one," Ironhide commanded through a comm link, a deep feeling of satisfaction striking his ground-bound senses as the poisons laced in the energon served here were activated by the release of nanobot-catalysts. All around the upper decks, in the air, and in the standing crowd mechs and femmes began to collapse from the effects. Those Seekers that were affected that had been in flight came crashing down, causing further injury as the unaffected were panicking with strident screams.

None of the students were affected, all of them having been confined for the procession away from the refreshments, but some of the faculty fell prey to the chain of events. However, the one femme chancellor who had spoken earlier was left to stare in horror at it all.

"I told you seating would not be an issue," Optimus Prime told her with dark humor.

" _What have you done?!_ " Starscream demanded stridently, flinging himself at the large mech with both his fists balled up. He was met by one powerful hand wrapping around his throat, lifting him to the tips of his feet, and crimping enough of the main cabling in his neck to stop him from activating his boot jets to compensate.

"Me, Starscream? No, this is your doing. All you had to do was say yes." Optimus held him there. "But, I am in a generous mood. One last time, young genius. Join me?"

"You are insane! There is nothing in your cause worthwhile, and you just slaughtered half the mechs here!" Starscream managed through the choking hold on his vocalizer.

"That sounds like another 'no', Jazz." Optimus held the Seeker up higher, while he looked at the matte-black mech on his other side. "Ironhide, complete it."

"Stupid air-headed Seeker." Jazz laughed cruelly at the helpless mech's twisting attempts to escape that grasp.

"Of course, Prime." Ironhide sent a signal and a wave of shock troops, the dispossessed and poor of Cybertron, now shaped into an effective rabble, poured in with rough weapons to finish off the crowds. Silmulataneously, throughout key points in the city, so-called stone-burners were ignited, their flames tearing through the city, perfectly spaced and working their way inward, so nothing could escape the fumes, the smoke, the heat.

" _NO!!!!_ " Starscream shrieked in shrill octaves.

"Now do you see the smoke?" Optimus Prime asked just as calmly as he had conducted the rest of the 'interview'.

Starscream stared at him in horror before the backlash of death fully struck his personal networks, and he thrashed on instinct, trying to gouge the wrist of his captor, kicking as hard as he could. Optimus Prime looked at him, then threw him hard, into the center of the stage that was flanked by dying mechs and femmes alike. Jazz was on the fallen Seeker in a moment, savage red optics drilling down behind the visor he wore.

"Should have said yes, fool," the smaller mech said, before punching down hard enough to cause Starscream's processors to push offline in an effort to reboot.

"Leave him, Jazz. We'll let him cope with the aftermath, and then return." Optimus Prime smiled slowly. "Then he will welcome us with open arms, as his saviors from solitary confinement in this desolation."

Ironhide and Jazz just exchanged a look; they both thought taking the Seeker now made more sense, but no one questioned Prime.

`~`~`~`~`

Thundercracker and Skywarp were in the middle of a tri-d game, maneuvering their characters in tandem against the combined efforts of Rumble and Frenzy. Their laughter, as the silly game continued, had soothed Megatron's nerves some, sure that the next move in this shadow war would be blatant enough to declare it openly to all of Cybertron.

That laughter faltered, then turned to an outright scream of shock from Skywarp, and a hiss of painful realization from Thundercracker. They dropped their controllers, each reaching for the other, helms pressing close and optics offlining in grief as the rolling, quiet web of Seeking voices muted to an almost deafening silence.

"Thundercracker?" Frenzy asked as the grief and inconsolable loss filtered off the pair at the empathic symbiont. "Come on, man; you two are scaring Boss like that."

"Big Boss don't look so good either," Rumble said as he looked at Megatron's perplexed faceplates.

"We..." Thundercracker tried to speak, but then he just had to open what he felt to Soundwave, across the room from him, incapable of speaking the horror.

Soundwave came up out of his lazy sprawl, Ravage having to scramble to get his feet, and Laserbeak squawking as he flapped for balance at the wave of intense empathic disturbance. "Oh, dudes... so not schway."

"Soundwave, report," Megatron said firmly.

"Seekers... their comm band... just got real quiet, all at once, Big Dude," Soundwave told him, voice bleak and small. "Real quiet, with a short burst of real loud just before."

"Why?"

Thundercracker shook his head, then looked at Skywarp. "Today... was it today?"

Skywarp nodded mutely, before he finally found his voice. "Yeah, kind of forgot."

"What was it?" Megatron asked patiently. He hated the not knowing, the feeling of impending doom, that his equations had proven right again.

"One of ours was graduating, top of class...right out of Crystal City, and he's from that lineage there," Thundercracker explained. "Everyone was invited, but we...we've been busy."

"He's line-kin, through your femme creator, isn't he?" Skywarp asked, getting a sharp nod.

"Call the army together," Megatron told Soundwave. "Crystal City needs us." He strode out of the rec room to go acquire his full weaponry as Soundwave saw to the recall throughout Polyhex.

`~`~`~`~`

"Prime..." Jazz's sharp snarl petered out as he saw his leader was already aware of the jet turbines in the distance.

"Fight?" Ironhide's question was eager, hungry for violence. He was a military mech, always had been, and now, under Prime, he wasn't just a show piece, a relic! Now he was allowed to be everything he had been created as.

"Not this time, Ironhide. I want this to serve as a warning to that resistance." Optimus swept away toward the gate. "Fall back, Autobots!"

Jazz started to remind his leader of the fallen Seeker, then he savagely clamped his mouth shut. If Prime had forgotten the toy he had come for, so much the better. Jazz didn't feel like having competition anyway.

`~`~`~`~`

Starscream could see the devastation that was all which remained of his city when he came back online. Nothing but obliterated buildings and fires remained to torment him beyond the walls of the University. How carefully they had wrought their damage, leaving the University standing, drenched in spilled energon and covered in the bodies of those that had been poisoned, slaughtered. Some had been so young, not even to their third upgrade. His Ember shriveled in his chest as he pushed to his feet to Seek, numb and cold inside, as the fates of all these people rested on his shoulders. Someone had to live! They could not have destroyed the entire city so thoroughly!

His fingers were quickly down to the bare metal from digging in the shell of a nearby building when he heard movement, and looked. There, shining bright, blue optics gazing down in compassion on him, was the legend out of Polyhex. Starscream could only look, thinking it was a hallucination, making his sensors function at their lowest level to avoid the press of the smells and energy flares as Embers collapsed into non-existence. His amber optics blinked on and off three times before he registered the pair of Seekers beyond the winged leader, and he cried out.

"I didn't mean to! I never...he...I..." The hysterical edge of his emotions pushed his voice into its full stridency, and he collapsed to his knees. "It should have been me, not them!"

Megatron looked down at the young mech, seeing the damage to his hands, the outright agony in those clouded amber optics, and tried to understand that agonized cry. The amount of devastation was sickening, and he took not a single erg of satisfaction or relief at the vindication of his models' accuracy. With this as the proof, he would so much have preferred to be wrong. Even as he thought, he was moving, coming closer to him. ::Thundercracker, Skywarp, who is this?:: he sent to them both, as he put his hands out to the white and red tetrajet stranger. "No," he said softly.

::Designation: Starscream,:: Skywarp supplied as Thundercracker tried to take in the amount of devastation and force the bitter rage down to a usable level. ::Something of a genius. He's the one that was graduating today.::

Starscream shrank away from the touch, still hysterical in his reaction to the destruction around him, because of him. "He did this because of me!"

"He. 'Optimus Prime'?" Megatron questioned, listening to the too-rapid cycling of those intakes, the way his painfully shrill voice cut into his audios with the agony in it, and his Ember ached for the young stranger for a moment. The mere look on Starscream's faceplates was enough of an answer, and he held a hand up, trying to stop the words for a moment. "It would have to be. Is there someone under there?" he asked, trying to resist the automatic desire to protect and shelter a brilliant young mind, knowing by the amount of guilt and grief in the Seeker that he had to allow him to try to help for as long as he could, for Starscream's own sake.

"My sensors...they ... "

"No, Megatron," Thundercracker said, wincing, as that many Embers going offline would have frayed the most strongly shielded sensor nets. "I don't sense anyone in there. We'll need to try elsewhere."

Starscream sobbed softly, then cast his optics out. "Someone...surely not all..." he whispered.

"My people will find them, whoever is still alive," Megatron told him, watching that wild shift of his optics, uneasy about keeping him in the field, but there was precious little time to work and still find mechs or femmes online to be saved -- the pressure of the buildings and leaking energon would deactivate before too many more breems passed. "Starscream, can you use your sensor nets at all, other than the physical?"

Starscream forced his air intakes to still, to pull in the air more slowly, and then forced his processors to temporarily block the emotion circuits. It would not last, but it allowed him to run a diagnostic, and learn how many sensors really were compromised. He took those offline, one by one, blinding himself in ways that recalled that long, lonely trek through the reaches of space to reach Cybertron, but... his city was dying all around him. "I have maybe fifteen percent capability," he managed to report. "The burners were set outside to inside, based on detonation sequence...maybe..." He cast a map of Crystal City up in all its former glory, and highlighted portions. "Efforts here?" he asked, voice shaking again as he felt the temporary blocks crumbling again.

Skywarp looked impressed that the Seeker had managed to pull that much together; he'd've been totally incoherent.

Megatron studied the map, recreating it with his own processors as swiftly as all of his capability could, turning his own hand up to bring the holographic display to life. "Thundercracker, relay this for us. Dirge and his here," he said, changing the color of one section, "Acid Storm here," as he selected another. "Soundwave here." That was the largest section, but Soundwave had the advantage of all of his cassettes, and some of their other, slower moving forces would join him. He continued, counting on Thundercracker to send the information in the ways that the furious Seekers would use the easiest. Once that was done, he looked back to Starscream. "That was good work. You'll save us -- and whatever authorities appear -- a lot of effort. With your sensor capacity that low, and your hands already so damaged -- "

"I must!" Starscream interjected swiftly. "My...everyone...please, Lord...don't send me away!" He was shaking at the very thought, none too far from another overload at the mere idea of not continuing to search.

"Easy, Star...that's what they called you, right? You're ... Yeah, you're going to be okay. Just stick with Megatron here, and us, and that will help us the most." Thundercracker really didn't like shackling the broken Seeker to their sides, but if they didn't he was pretty certain the crazy, broken thing would deactivate by day's end. "Anyone we find is going to need to be identified." He flicked another comm out to Reflector, giving him the unfortunate task of imaging all the dead, so they could be catalogued and remembered ...named in some cases... once the crisis was past.

//Don't call me that.// He kept the words behind his dental plates. The title was being breathed among his army already, and Starscream did not need to feel as though he had done something -- //more, and oh, Prime, when I have time to talk to him about this, I think the answers will be proof of your vileness beyond anything I needed...// -- wrong this day. "Thundercracker is right. Stay with us, help us identify them," Megatron said, proud of his Seeker for finding a task the student could do that would be both very helpful and not too strenuous on his obviously badly strained systems. "Come now, and we'll search this part of the city."

Starscream nodded, shutting off his vocalizer rather than let the small noises of pain and shock continue to grate the audios of the ones who had come. That the day wore on without any official assistance did not go unnoticed by either Thundercracker or Skywarp, and they wondered if Prime had finally broken the government by such a blatant show of force here. Starscream did not comment further, only switching his vocalizer on to identify the bodies they did find, breaking a little further inside with each hopeful case that panned out in deactivation instead.

Megatron reached out to lay one hand on Starscream's shoulder often throughout the day, especially as they found further victims of Prime's cruelty, trying to give the young mech something to hold on to, his Ember slowly banking itself in fury at the loss of life and the devastation.

Thundercracker took a warning from Dirge that they had incoming toward the late part of the day, and it didn't look quite official, just before a broadcast came on a general frequency they all could hear.

::Relief efforts, this is Scrapper and crew. Tell us where we can best help!::

::Slagging senators can take themselves right to the Pits,:: was the opinion of another voice on the frequency.

::No kidding, Mixie,:: the first replied.

::Scrapper,:: Megatron answered, even as the designation sent a surge of relief through his processors, ::this is Megatron. I have a map of the destruction pattern, I'm highlighting it with the highest probability of survivors and appending with where we're working ... now. It's a relief to hear you.:: He offered the data in tight-burst form, tossing it along that frequency.

::We've got it, Megatron...and you've got us. Be slagged to pits and back if we're not coming to help our masterpiece!:: Scrapper's fury was tightly leashed, as the unit he was with shared the information and they went for the area most in need. ::The whole Senate was ... useless. Wanting to 'negotiate' with that slag-making piece of filth when he sent in the first images.::

::I've had more important things on my processors than the news releases, and I think it'd better stay that way until we're done here,:: Megatron replied, as nothing in him cared for the idea that the government was so paralyzed. ::You can see how little _we_ care for the Senate's opinions, I'm sure.::

::This's Hook, and you've got the right idea there, it'll just melt your processors and we need 'em workin'. I'm primary medic, anybody you find alive, all of you, get 'em to me and they'll slaggin' stay that way,:: a third voice added, grieving and sharp with anger at once.

::Sorry, Megatron...just venting...hurts me to see her in this way,:: Scrapper came back. ::And all her people.::

::We'll do a meet and greet later, but you're okay in our books, from all we've heard," the one called 'Mixie' by Scrapper called over the frequencies. ::Slag...we need Dev to pick up the power core....need to get it set away from those last fires.::

::Rusted bolts, we sure do,:: Scrapper called, before everyone working in the city saw a city-tall mech form near the main power processor.

::It's all right, Scrapper,:: Megatron sent. ::You have more than enough reason. And seeing her this way hurts all of us,:: he added, understanding riding the comm link for a moment before surprise struck him at seeing the massive form. //'Dev'... Devastator. I never did understand that name, given how much they create...// His helm shook once. The gestalts were the rarest of mech classes, and he would have given almost anything for this tragedy _not_ to have been the reason they came to join him.

"Boss," Skywarp called as they all heard the slow fall of a mech to the ground, turning to see where Skywarp was pointing. Starscream had paused in his work at the sight of Devastator, and the moment of stillness had apparently broken his own ability to continue to function as his optics went offline. Thundercracker made his way over and checked the mech's signals, before shaking his head.

"Should stay out a long while, but he's not in danger of deactivating," Thundercracker murmured.

"Probably the best thing for him, right now," Megatron said, his optics dimming as he looked at the offlined mech. "With any luck, he'll stay out until we're finished here and we're back home."

Thundercracker agreed, but privately wondered if they'd ever be able to salvage the Seeker's capacities...and then flushed, vowing that he would not stop trying, not when Prime had done more than enough damage to the Seeker ranks in one day -- and that was another thing that was going to have to be dealt with, sooner than not.

They had never had such a tragedy, but no matter what it took, none of the Seekers of the fallen city were going to be totally lost to the ground. Not if he had anything to say about it. He reached out, calling to Dirge, Acid Storm, Horizon, Dreadwind, and the other leaders of trines and pairs that had already come to Megatron's side. ::I'll get our time cleared with Megatron, mechs, he'll understand,:: he promised.

:: -- I hadn't even thought -- :: Dirge's send was shaken, the normally ebullient mech so obviously grieving the devastation that it hurt to hear.

::Who can?:: Acid Storm replied, flicking a mental caress across Thundercracker's linkage to him. ::Alright, TC. Best you're on that, you're right.::

The grounded mechs -- and there had been many -- those Reflector and Megatron and the others of the army could care for better than they could, but it was going to drive them all to exhaustion to do what needed to be done for their own.

`~`~`~`~`

The instant the door opened, Sideswipe heard the occupant inside shift and move in startled surprise, maybe even a little fear. He came fully inside to find Sunstreaker staring toward the door, processing who was there -- at least; but the area where he usually painted had been turned into sheer chaos. Paint littered the area, canvases were broken, the easel was smashed beyond repair, and the brushes had been trod into uselessness. On top of that, hand prints in those paints were livid marks on Sunstreaker's frame, and there were dents in the peaceful mech's chassis that had not been there.

"Sunny," Sideswipe said, instantly on guard and furiously alert, even as he covered the distance between the two of them, crouching next to his twin and putting his hands out for Sunny, hands settling on his forearms. "Sunny, what happened?"

Sunstreaker shuddered violently, cycling air in hiccups at the concern for him. He hated bothering Sideswipe, had hoped to get it all cleaned up before his twin returned. "I...I angered someone."

"You? How? And how did anyone else get in here, Sunny?" Of all the mechs in the city, Sunny was the one _least_ likely to slag anyone off... Sideswipe asked, his hands still sliding over his arms gently, sliding up towards those dents, fury seething in the back of his processors that anyone had _dared_ put a hand on his twin.

"I had gone to get fresh energon. I had a little paint on me from my latest, and one of them taunted me over wasting myself on something so pointless," Sunstreaker told him. "I didn't mean to make anyone mad, Sideswipe! I just said that art was what lasted through the vorns, a way to leave a mark."

Sideswipe's engines growled, savage and dark, as he sucked oxygen hard through his systems, fueling the temper seething in his processors. "It's not like you're _wrong_ ," he rumbled, his voice dark, and he moved to tuck his twin closer in against his own frame, arms wrapping protectively around him. He'd had his own moments of pricking at his brother over his art, but that anyone else had **dared**... "And of course you didn't. You wouldn't."

Sunstreaker leaned into his twin's strength, optics shuttering. "I hoped to get it cleaned up." He would have to scrounge to even begin to replace what had been damaged here. "Didn't want you coming in to the mess."

"Hush that, Sunny," Sideswipe said, stroking down the line of his chassis, banking his fury for later. Not much later, just enough that Sunny would be alright. "Better that I know someone's been giving you trouble. ...have they been hassling you before?" Sunstreaker's intakes hitched a little, but he didn't want to answer that.

"Maybe a little, but it's okay." He didn't want to cause any trouble, because Sideswipe wanted to succeed here so much, and was rising in rank fast.

"No, it's _not_ , Sunny. You're _my_ twin. Like I'm going to put up with anyone hurting you?" Sideswipe growled, fury lashing through him again. Sunstreaker flinched at the feeling as it tore into his Ember through their twin-bond.

"I'll be more careful. Stay in here when you're gone, and figure out better locks," he said in hope of ending that part of it.

"Good. _We'll_ figure out better locks; I can probably get hold of better parts," Sideswipe said, hand spreading on the back of Sunny's helm, tucking him in closer, brushing the apology he wouldn't say down the bond between them. //And I go hunting, once you're okay and recharging and _safe_. Nobody short of Prime himself gets to touch you, and _that_ over my deactivated frame. _My_ twin.//

Sunstreaker leaned hard into that embrace, before he cycled air again, then calmed enough to look around, and finally he pulled free. "Let me get it clean, brother." It was the least he could do, being the weaker half, moved more to the gentle ways of life than his twin ever could be.

Sideswipe growled again, engines and vocalizer, and nodded as he moved towards the door, settling in front of it to start hacking its programming.

`~`~`~`~`

The battle had been one of the worst since the war went into the open, a contest of brute strength on Prime's part versus the wicked cunning of the Decepticons under Megatron. Starscream's modifications to the way Megatron's transformation process worked had given them a slight edge, but in the end, they had still paid a drastic price in mech lives.

At least they had convinced many of the civilians to seek refuge in Polyhex, now a fortress designed to be insulated against any attack. The fact only slightly lessened the grip of malaise on Megatron's Ember as he walked the battlefield, watching the Constructicons try to stem the loss of life with all their ability. Starscream, despite his newness to a battlefield, was also providing first aid measures, his sensor net adept at finding hidden energon bleeds.

"Thundercracker!" Starscream called out when he came to the mangled wrecks of a trine, fallen together, and one of them barely hanging on to his Ember's pulse. The other two were speedily losing even that, making Starscream's chest ache with the memories of Crystal City all over again. No matter how much time passed, it had defined him in tragedy.

"Star..." The conscious mech's voice was gritty, tearing through his vocalizer with effort.

"Shh. Don't speak."

"Must. Dying." The mech... Starscream remembered now that he was called Horizon, with his trine mates named Strata and Nebula... reached for him. "Can't live without them. Not strong like you, to go it alone."

Starscream wanted to protest that -- he was hardly that strong; but instead he shifted to his knees, taking one outstretched hand. "Horizon, please, we need..."

"Need Seekers, yes. But I can't. Want... We want Megatron to take our legacy." Horizon's optics were fading slowly. "Star, make him understand. Let him keep us in the air."

Starscream's intakes hitched as he understood, and processed the request. Seekers had long since had the custom, frowned on by other Cybertronians, of taking the parts of the deceased for themselves, and keeping them in the air that way, so no Seeker ever truly grounded. The Seekers of Megatron's army all carried at least one part of every Seeker who had deactivated at Crystal City. Starscream himself had changed his original blue for red when he lost Skyfire, unable to keep his legacy any other way. Now this trine wanted their legacy to be Megatron's, and it was up to Star, still so hesitant and new to the war effort, to sanity, if he was honest with himself, to convince Megatron to overcome a strong taboo held by most grounded mechs.

"I will do all I can, Horizon." He reached out then, using the bandwidth Megatron had entrusted him with, the one he so rarely touched for fear of disturbing the gifted leader. ::Megatron, come here please?::

::On my way,:: Megatron answered, and it was not long before the tall, broad mech had nearly reached them, his optics taking in the fallen trine with a dark flicker. They had lost so many Seekers already... There had to be more reason than their fall that Starscream had called him, but he wasn't sure what it could be. "What is it, Starscream?"

::Horizon made a last request of me, one that involves you...one that would give you an unprecedented honor and advantage.:: Starscream stayed on the private bandwidth to spare any possibly listening in. His hand rested still on Horizon, hurting for the brave trine's loss.

::What did he ask?:: Megatron dropped to one knee beside the fallen Seekers, looking from one brutally deactivated mech to the next as he forced his Ember to remain steady, even, despite the way the losses made him ache.

::That you carry their legacy.:: Starscream met the leader's optics, made himself do it, despite how much that hurt his own Ember. He still wasn't comfortable with the fact he was constantly in the foreground, because of his ideas, or Thundercracker keeping him close, or any of the other myriad reasons. He looked to see if Megatron would understand without further explanation.

Megatron met those blue optics with his own, shaking his head slightly as he failed to follow that answer. ::What? I'm sorry, Starscream, I don't understand.::

Starscream lowered his gaze then; this was not easy. He had hoped that maybe Megatron had understood why the bodies of the Seekers were only ever touched by other Seekers. ::It means that they wish you to upgrade using their parts. They wish you to be the reason they are never truly grounded.::

He reached out, one silver-black hand settling on Starscream's white shoulder, making his processors function past the first flare of autonomic distaste, listening to the way that was phrased. He remembered the first cycles after Crystal City, when all of his Seekers had looked slightly different for a time, more freshly painted than he would have expected, component lines that had not looked exactly as he was accustomed to seeing them... ::This is common, between Seeker makes?::

::It is our custom.:: //Denied even that, for mine!// cut through him, thinking of Skyfire, but Thundercracker and Skywarp had helped him upgrade with parts of every lineage member that had been his, once he was well enough to handle that part of the grieving. ::For them to choose a grounded mech is unheard of, but Horizon gave his last ergs to make me know it was their wish.::

::It strikes me as very strange,:: Megatron said, very softly across the band between them. ::But if it was their wish... I can hardly deny them. How?::

Thundercracker finally freed himself from helping Scavenger and darted across the field to Starscream and Megatron, looking at the way they were settled on either side of -- //slag it, that's Horizon and his trine// -- the trio of broken frames. ::Star? What is it?::

Starscream expanded his comm band to include Thundercracker, relieved to have him there to help him through this. ::Horizon and his trine have given Megatron their legacy,:: he explained. ::Megatron, we will bring them back to base, and you would choose components to keep...but as you are not a Seeker, perhaps you would trust Thundercracker to choose for you?::

::They what?! -- Sorry, I believe you, Star. All right. Yeah, I can help there, Leader, if...:: he trailed off, his helm tipped to the side.

::Of course, Thundercracker. You would know far better than I would,:: Megatron answered, nodding once.

Starscream was relieved, and went to arrange the transportation with Astrotrain. This was so unusual a request, but Starscream believed that Horizon and his trine had chosen wisely. Who more deserved the honor, than the mech that would save them all?

`~`~`~`~`

Thundercracker carefully inspected each of the three, his Ember twisting with the wounds they had taken, determining which parts from each of the three were in the best shape, and carefully detaching each selected piece from the fallen frames. If Horizon and Nebula and Strata were going to stay in the air, he and his trine were going to have to do the impossible and blend a grounded mech's systems to a Seeker's wings and chassis. Megatron already had a secondary system, that would make this somewhat easier, but... if it wouldn't have been so -- wrong, he'd have been tempted to ask for Hook's help in the re-design.

No, they could do this... he'd learned Megatron's systems well enough to do the work. He would never have the full sensor array or capabilities of one of their own... but before this was over, he would be as close to one of them as any mech not forged for the skies could be.

"Thundercracker?" came a soft voice, calling from the door. Starscream would not enter until the other Seeker allowed it, but he was curious how things fared. "Skywarp said you were in here."

"Yeah. I'm here. Come on in, Sky too, if he's out there," TC answered, taking his hands away from his careful work for a moment.

The pair entered together; there was an unofficial order that Starscream was not to be alone, put in place first by worrying over his sanity, and then reinforced by Bombshell's appraisal that the former student was a suicide risk, in the form of 'would go chase Prime himself'. Skywarp moved to Thundercracker, hand going to his mate's shoulder for a long moment. Starscream inspected the parts that Thundercracker had already salvaged, mind flicking through the likelihood of use.

"This must be far more difficult than the usual process," he murmured softly.

"It's going to be," Thundercracker agreed. "Thankfully he's already got the transformation ability, but reformatting and upgrading enough to get him into our air... I think I've got it nearly planned, though. Here." He brought up the schematic of their leader's frame, showing them what he thought was going to need to happen. Skywarp looked it over, then looked at Thundercracker seriously.

"Extra pair of hands here," he said, almost cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood by playing up his attention deficit disorder.

Starscream, however, moved to the console, and started tracing it out, recopying it into a new program, and beginning to tweak things, adding in a few more pieces, removing some, and slowly coming up with an alternative suggestion, one that streamlined the power consumptions. "Thundercracker, would you check this over?"

"Yeah, you are," TC agreed, hand stroking over Sky's wing as he moved around him to join Star, standing behind his shoulder to look at the design, studying it intently for a few moments. "Looks good. Nice work, Star. Better than what I had going."

Starscream shook his head. "No, no...I just...energy..." He looked up, almost guiltily. "It's what I do."

"Easy, there, Star." Skywarp moved to Star's other shoulder, and petted a light hand over the other mech's helm. "You think, I bounce, and TC's the sexy one. Works for me."

Thundercracker smacked upside the back of his partner's helm, snorting air through his vents, then looked at Star intently. "It was a compliment. Seriously, Star, learn to take them. You do really good work, and that's going to help Megatron now, and every other time you put your hand to something."

Starscream's faceplates closed off. He didn't want compliments. He didn't ever want any attention again. Still, he had promised Megatron in one of their late night conversations to use all his science to help end the threat of Prime for good.

::Ease up,:: Skywarp shot back at Thundercracker as he felt Starscream retreating so strongly on a mental level.

::Oh, _slag_ it,:: Thundercracker sent back, hating seeing Star shut himself off that way, and he brought his hand to the join of red-streaked white wings, laying it still. "Sorry, Star. You might have noticed, I can be a little pushy. Easy, there."

"It's perfectly logical," Star told him. "I have skills to be used." He tweaked a few pieces of the design to further enhance the weapon capabilities of their Leader, then rose and moved to the fallen trine. Easier to work, easier to be helpful, than to think about anything that was not science.

::Will he ever be okay?:: Skywarp had to ask.

::I don't know,:: TC answered, shaking his helm a little. ::I do know we're not going to stop trying.::

Skywarp took that to his Ember, and then moved to start the salvage process. Once they had all the parts, then they would clear Megatron's schedule through the 'Waves so they could bring him down and do this.

`~`~`~`~`

Megatron brought his senses back online in slow progression, leaving the main frame diagnostics for last, processing the drastically different way his frame felt once he had brought them online. Not even the original transformation he had developed had felt quite so... different, and he lay still, Ember-down on the berth, matching the finished product to the design Thundercracker had shown him. He began testing motor systems, accustoming himself to the difference in the feeling of his entire frame. It was... more than acceptable, it suited perfectly, and he moved, new code giving him the balance points for this as he came back to his feet. He looked between the three Seekers, his faceplates shifting into a smile. "So. Who's teaching me to use these?"

Skywarp let out a whoop and grinned and then threw his arms around Megatron, hugging him impetuously. "Slag, Boss, but it looks great on you!"

Starscream took in the redefined form, his sensors running constantly, checking and rechecking the upgrade, until he was satisfied he had not missed anything. He did not answer the question, preferring to try and slip back so Thundercracker took the fore.

Megatron wrapped his arms around his reckless teleporter, holding him in for a moment. "I'm glad you approve, since you all did the work on it," he teased him, shaking his helm slightly.

"Guess that'd be me, boss," Thundercracker said as Star slipped back further, even though he thought it might be a real good thing for Star to take that on. He'd just have to be "busy" some of the times Megatron was free. Those were rare enough Star'd have to take it on.

"Let's go show the Waves you're okay!" Skywarp said, eager to see the shock on those faceplates.

Starscream busied himself with the clean up of their working lab, less willing to go face the curious crowd. In truth, Megatron was stunning in any way, but to see him in near-Seeker form was doing very strange things to his already large hero-worship.

Megatron nodded, agreeing. "They're probably about to overclock each other's processors," he said, amused at the thought, and went to walk out with them -- then turned, hearing Starscream staying behind. "Star, aren't you coming?"

"Someone needs to handle the final data inputs, while they are fresh, my Lord," Starscream demurred.

"I'll see you when you're finished, then," Megatron said, before leaving the lab with Thundercracker and Skywarp, taking the lift up to the command level.

"They look good," Skywarp told him in the lift. Thundercracker lightly smacked his helm.

"Of course they do, vapor-lock," he teased affectionately. "We did the work."

Megatron laughed, shaking his helm at the pair of them for the way that they clowned around with each other at nearly all times, hand settling against Skywarp's shoulder. "Thank you. Even if Thundercracker thinks it should have been obvious, I appreciate it."

The lift stopped at the command center, and the doors opened. There was Shockwave, manning the helm. Soundwave was near him, sitting in a laid back style on one of the larger chairs. Dirge, temporarily in command of the Seekers during the hush-hush project by Thundercracker and trine, was the first to actually see, and Megatron could have sworn the Seeker's optics stretched beyond their emplacements on seeing him.

"Whoa, dude," came the hushed response of Soundwave as he turned and looked at the entry of the three winged mechs.

"What do you think, you three?" Megatron asked, though most of his attention remained focused on Dirge, as his reaction was likely to be that of most Seekers.

Shockwave frowned some, before making a considering noise with his voder. Eventually he gave up and shook his head. "I see the tactical advantage... but it's going to go rough on some of the grounders seeing you take the Seekers' side so strongly."

"No, it won't," Soundwave countered. "I'll spin it right, that you did as a sacrifice, to speed the war effort. And... dude, they're mondo-perfecto!"

Dirge had to cycle air a few times to get his processors cooled enough from the sudden overload of sensory data as he pulled the full reading off his leader. He then walked forward, and dropped to one knee in front of Megatron, head bowing. "My Leader." He was just too overcome, seeing Megatron bearing a Seeker trine's legacy. It was fitting, given that Megatron had been the one to give the Seekers refuge from the beginning, when Prime's kill squads had originally begun targeting them for preferring their brand of freedom to Prime's delusions of freedom through forced service to him.

Thundercracker planted his hands on either side of his hip plates, glaring across at Shockwave as he took it to a private band. ::'Seekers' side'? What the pits, Shockie?! Like we're not all on the same side of 'get that monolith that's five screws short of a secure skidplate _down_ before he kills all of us'?!::

"Thank you, Soundwave," Megatron said, able to tell from nothing but Thundercracker's frame-language that he was already taking care of chewing into Shockwave. He shook his helm slightly as Dirge came to kneel in front of him -- he would never become comfortable with the way that some of his forces revered him. He was no better or more than they were, he had simply been the first to see the signs of the war coming, and spent the time preparing. He could not disdain the gesture, or show how much it bothered him to have that kind of reverence, and merely reached down to clasp Dirge's outer shoulder and upper arm. "My Seeker. You approve, then?"

Shockwave let Thundercracker feel the slight apology he intended for the hasty words and unintentional insult, but he bulled up on his words too on that private comm band. ::Thundercracker, I'm just saying, some of us with no wings? Feel a little outnumbered some days.::

"No problem, Megatron," Soundwave came back.

Dirge rose at the grip on his arm, nodding in silence, before rattling them all with his emotional levels when his turbines kicked over to release some of it. He was overwhelmed, both with reverence and with joy, the kind that came with a shade of grief for the ones who had made it possible at all.

::...well, we do tend to come in threes,:: TC had to admit, after a few seconds to think that over. ::Guess I can see your point.::

Megatron wrapped his other hand around Dirge's arm, immediately below the elbow, keeping that connection strong as he watched Dirge's faceplates, the sudden slam of air against his frame from the turbines kicking on a long-known sign of a stressed Seeker. Skywarp moved, sliding behind Dirge, both hands flat against the other Seeker's wings in a strong show of support and comfort. Dirge cycled air again, and got the turbines under control, before smiling at his Leader and pressing into the touch on his wings.

"You wear them well." He gave a sharp nod, then looked over his shoulder at Skywarp. "I'm okay."

"Of course you are. Me and TC can take this racket, if you want to jet to your trine," Skywarp said, before snickering at his pun. Soundwave groaned at it.

"Thundercracker, he thinks he's funny again," Soundwave complained, before looking at his counterpart to be sure it was all smoothed out.

Shockwave met Thundercracker's optics across the way. ::We're all needed. I'll keep the grounders in on things, and I do... I really do... get how much we need all of you.::

"I mean to," Megatron agreed, nodding once, before he let go of Dirge's arms in favor of letting Skywarp comfort -- and joke with, as always -- him.

::We'd be sitting astroducks without you guys, and we know it,:: Thundercracker replied, settling all the way out of his uncommonly aggressive stance, nodding again.

"I will head on out...and Megatron? Shockwave? We're going to treat it as the honor it is, but we know your feet are on the ground. We couldn't win if you were an airhead like us," Dirge told them. He grinned a little, then moved on by to go tell his trine mates.

::The honor is mine, Dirge,:: Megatron sent after the dark Seeker, shaking his helm a little as he looked at Soundwave and Shockwave. "So, what have I missed?"

The pair settled in to brief him and Thundercracker, as Skywarp took up his usual guardian position near the lift, ready to defend the newly winged Leader at the drop of a cube.

`~`~`~`~`

They'd just gotten back from a daring raid to capture a refinery north of Vos, when Sideswipe's Ember started pulsing in pain and fear. It was his twin -- his twin was in danger. The frontliner tore through the base Prime had made for them at near his full speed, leaving his two teammates in the dust as he tried to get to his twin, scared that things had gone horribly wrong somehow. They raced after him, not wanting to have to break in yet another newbie to their

He stumbled on the edge of a huge crowd in the mess hall, nothing but backs of mechs, as it felt like his Ember was being drained away. "SUNSTREAKER!" It was ripped from his throat, and the crowd parted, many of them turning to stare at the twin that had just arrived, instead of the events at the front of the hall, intakes stilling across the crowd. His team caught up to him, and when their optics took in what was inside the circle of mechs, they hastened to grab hold of Sideswipe's arms, to hold him back. Huffer and Brawn both knew if Sideswipe got near that broken mech, with Prime right there, and Hot Rod just at his left, Sideswipe would be dead too.

"Ahh, Sideswipe, my loyal soldier," Prime intoned, stepping away from the carcass of the dead twin, ignoring the spatters of energon and other fluids drying on his chassis from Sunstreaker's dying spasms. "Your mission was a success?"

"Slag the mission, that's my brother!" Sideswipe bawled out, straining to get free.

"Come now, Sideswipe. You have been a strong warrior for me, which is why I have chosen not to listen to Hot Rod... no, you're right. You are very correct." Prime had obviously ceased talking to Sideswipe long before he turned to look at the brutal executioner, and a few mechs' optics flicked away from the sight of their leader addressing the voices only he could hear. "Rodimus. Rodimus Prime, as a mark of being so forward in protecting our cause."

"I like it," the other mech drawled lazily, hand running over the dark extension of his chinplates, before looking at Sideswipe. "I still say he's not worth it."

In the next moment, a thin laser pierced the newly named Rodimus Prime's shoulder, before Optimus Prime's optics glinted with the edge of his vicious temper. "I have already said Sideswipe is loyal. Do not anger me, Rodimus." He turned his attention back to the straining twin, his voice infinitely reasonable. "Sideswipe, that treacherous artist was giving our secrets away. The raid on Epsilon that went badly? He sold it out. Even knowing you would be there, he did it."

"No. No. NO!" Sideswipe lunged again, and this time Huffer just tripped his legs, dropping him to the deck, muffling the "he would never!" in the flooring.

"You will understand the truth, Sideswipe." Optimus started walking out of the room. "I have said it, and will not repeat it."

The crowd began to disperse, even Rodimus who was drawn away by his scheming femme of a partner, her arm curled close around his waist. Huffer and Brawn were shaken off as Sideswipe's ragged intake slowly calmed. "I'll kill him." The words were low, angry, but cold.

"Not right now, not when Prime himself just renamed him," Huffer chided, never realizing Sideswipe's pronoun might not be aimed just at his brother's killer.

"Revenge later." Brawn eyed the broken mech, then his teammate. "Want help disposing of the body?"

Sideswipe's optics glinted in cold, bitter loss. "No. My twin." He got himself up and walked over, carefully gathering the pieces that had fallen from the chassis, scooping the body up after, and then he walked away from the mess hall, his Ember colder than space in reaction to losing its other half. His anger had always been hot... but now, it was cold as the dark side of a moon. That only made sense, though, as Sunstreaker had always been his light. Without him...

`~`~`~`~`

"Got it done?" Jazz asked the brutal mech later, giving Arcee a scathing look to get lost. She wasn't smart enough to do that, brazenly staying right there.

"Timed it just right... the Ember imploded just before Sideswipe entered the mess hall." Rodimus stroked at his chin with a glint in his optics. "Optimus renamed me. Made me a Prime too."

Jazz snorted; he knew that was a curse coming, even if Hot Rod... Rodimus Prime... couldn't see it. "Yeah, have fun with that. One piece of dead weight off our hands, and Sideswipe will make a mistake. Get rid of him too, and everything will keep ticking over smooth." He hated the frontliner with all he had, not liking the fact Optimus had spoken highly of him more than once. There wasn't any more room in the upper cadre for another mech, especially not one Optimus was thinking about that personally. "Keep it chill, Roddy... and see ya." He left, assured now that his place as Optimus Prime's confidante was secure again.

`~`~`~`~`

 

There was always at least one Seeker in the air above Polyhex, flying a random pattern to patrol and insure the city was safe from sneak attack. Seeing a lone Autobot heading toward them on an open approach, bold and blazing as could be made the current patrol Seeker, Ramjet, yelp and request his trine in the air, just to be on the safe side. It had to be a diversion, after all.

Dirge and Thrust were out in no time, but could not see anything except that one Autobot. Not trusting their sensors to be entirely accurate, they commed for the senior trio to come to them, leading to Skywarp teleporting out immediately for recon.

Starscream looked puzzled as he turned his optics toward Thundercracker. "It must be some form of trick, yes?" The scientist had grown accustomed to the sneaky, underhanded fighting style of both sides in this war, slowly proving to be as capable a warrior as his brethren, for all he was a pacifist at heart.

"It's got to be," Thundercracker agreed, "but slag if I can figure it out. He's just... totally out in the open." ::Sky, what do you see, babe?::

::Crazy Autobot wanting to get his aft crunched but good,:: Skywarp said cheerfully. He had popped around the sky at random intervals, and was not being jammed, or he was nothing more than a turbo-fox in a burrow.

"Should we inform our Lord?" Starscream asked, nervous because of the strangeness of the situation.

"I think we'd better," Dirge said, his helm shaking with confusion at what the Autobot thought he was doing. ::Hey, Sky, who _is_ the crazy one, can you tell?::

Skywarp, never much for thinking before acting, did a pop-teleport that brought him in low and close to get the visual more clearly.

::SKYWARP!:: Starscream's Ember was in his throat as he poured on speed, in case the Autobot got violent. Few, if any, had the thrusters to catch up to him, though Thundercracker could stay close.

::Slaggit, SKY!:: Thundercracker joined in the curse and followed his pair, despite knowing Sky could jump again if things got too bad.

Sideswipe threw his brakes on, aft swinging out as he skidded to a halt now that he had enough attention. He wanted revenge, and answers, not necessarily in that order. He knew, all the way down to the core of his Ember, that Sunny would _never_ have betrayed him... but he had to be sure his twin hadn't been being manipulated somehow. Then he'd decide where his truest targets lay.

::Easy, TC, Star! Had to see,:: Skywarp complained, but then he did a fast climb; his identification poured into all five of his Seeker reinforcements. Sideswipe, the dreaded warrior without mercy, frontliner of Optimus Prime's hand picked Seeker Squads. ::SLAG!!!!::

Starscream's weaponry went active at Skywarp's identification, but he did not lock targets immediately, still confused by this unorthodox meeting. ::Megatron?:: he sent, along with all the details so far, in a high speed, encrypted burst.

Megatron came upright in his office instantly at the send from his Seeker, sorting through the data. Between the six of them being outside, and Skywarp's ability to teleport, they were safe for the moment. However, the idea of Sideswipe's appearance so close to Polyhex... the only mech that could have been more a surprise was possibly Ironhide. ::Soundwave, we have company. Keep your audios open while I join the Seekers and our guest.:: he ordered as he made his way to the nearest exit and took his jet form, moving at his full speed towards them.

Soundwave caught that, and gently moved Ravage off his legs to stand and head to where he could view the scene outside. "Shockie-babe...we got company outside; want to get a few muscles ready just in case His Nibs wants help?" he called down to Shockwave's quarters in the bowels of Polyhex's Undercity.

"Who is it?"

"Just one really zoned out Autobot, it looks like," Soundwave replied.

"What the? Alright, I'll be up there in -- oh, slag, 'Dance.. -- just a sec," Shockwave answered, and firmly shut off his quarter's comm link.

Megatron reached the pair of trines and looked down. ::Strange,:: he said to all of them, then dipped his wings to dive, falling to mere stories above the ground before transforming to his base form. "Sideswipe."

"Megatron," Sideswipe growled, facing up to the leader of the other side with white-cold fury in his Ember. His optics flicked to the Seekers, watching as one trine pulled back, and the other took up flanking marks on their leader. He sneered arrogantly, that they thought they needed seven against his one.

"What brings you?" Megatron asked, attempting to keep his voice casual, merely interested. His Seekers would notice anything coming at a longer range than he would, he was free to leave his full attention on their visitor.

"You got my brother killed," Sideswipe accused. "Not enough that you keep things from changing for the better, but you have to use someone like him! Put him in danger?" The fury was all he could feel now, lost without his twin.

Megatron paused, his processor flicking over identifications and the heat in Sideswipe's words. //Brother... twin. Sunstreaker. Artist, before.// He had absolutely no data on Sunstreaker after the beginning of the war, and he shook his helm, letting the confusion show. "I'm sorry for your loss, but... I haven't heard or seen anything from Sunstreaker since before the war began." ::Soundwave. Did we have anyone talking to Sunstreaker, inside the Autobot camp?:: he sent back towards Polyhex.

Soundwave scrolled through his data on spies and informants. ::I have an entry, from Windsweeper, when he joined us, that he thought Sunstreaker would be sympathetic to us cool dudes. Never could get a sneak on; The Streakster was in main camp.::

Sideswipe's low growl led to a power up of his weaponry, and the quick match of weaponry aimed at him, but he held his fire. "They said he spied for you! That he sold me out at Epsilon!"

Megatron shook his helm again, long steady move. "If he was, I don't know about it, and Soundwave doesn't. Who told you he was spying for us?"

Sideswipe stared at the mech hovering above him, wanting to deny it, wanting to throw all the blame on his shoulders.

"Prime did," Starscream said, gracefully letting his weapons fall offline, transforming and landing near Sideswipe, watching that raging pain in the Autobot with more sympathy than he would have thought possible. "Optimus Prime told you your brother did that. He is...was a painter, a sculptor? Yes?" His voice was soft, gentle, not unlike Sunstreaker's.

Above, the Seekers were very tense, as not only their Leader but their gentlest member put themselves at risk.

Megatron tensed for a moment as Starscream dropped down to his side, but he said nothing, frame shifting enough to welcome his presence.

Sideswipe's optics flashed dark red at that, at hearing a voice so like his twin's, fury and hate and need all sliding through his Ember, and he nodded once, harsh and sharp. "He was," he growled, "and yes."

"He... He took my city from me, took brothers, cousins, sisters, creators from all in our army," Starscream told the Autobot in those soft tones. "I do not understand him, Sideswipe. But I do know this. Megatron does not lie to anyone. He is not, as you say, blocking change. Change is necessary, or else the war never could have happened. But who would you rather be with? The slayer of lineages? The one who decided your brother was a spy, because it was easier than admitting we defeated his force? Or the mech who tries to shield and teach the civilians to take up better, more thrifty ways?"

Sideswipe snarled, low noise from his vocalizer, as his optics flared again, but that soft, quiet voice, reasonable and gentle and so _much_ like Sunny's... Everything in his Ember that had wanted Prime's way howled rejection of those words, but -- there was truth in them. He looked away from the white and red jet, his optics fixing on Megatron again. "He wasn't spying for you."

"No. He was not," came the steady, sure answer, blue eyes watching the fury and buried, hidden hurt on Sideswipe's face. "I swear that to you."

Skywarp twitched a little, really not liking the crazy mech below, and the twitch just grew into something that was outright jitters when Starscream walked a little closer to the frontliner. ::Our problem child is off his processors again!:: he shot at Thundercracker. His sensors flickered to Dirge, thankful that the mech was reading his turbines just in case, with their harmonics that could paralyze a mech's processors.

"You lost your brother, and came to us looking for answers. Something in your Ember knows the truth, because how could a twin ever turn on its mated Ember?" Starscream asked him gently. ::Megatron, he is in such pain!:: the gentle Seeker sent privately, torn by seeing it, recognizing it, and knowing this was an enemy who had inflicted numerous wounds on his comrades and rescuers.

::I see it, Starscream,:: Megatron agreed quietly, furious with Prime for the thousandth time at this new pain. To so harm one of your own people... "None of us would ask that someone turn on an Ember-bond, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe's dentaplates were grinding with the effort to cope with this, to try, but the Seeker, slag his fame, was right. He knew the minute Prime wouldn't listen that Prime was lying. How much else of the war effort was a lie too? "I want him dead," he finally growled.

"..so do we all," Megatron said, his voice quiet and sad. He had long since faced that nothing but Prime's death would fracture the Autobot army enough to stop their madness. That did not mean that he took the fact well. "Will you join me? Or will you attempt to remain alone, and fall?"

Sideswipe snarled at that very thought; he would never be defeated, not when he had his twin to avenge.

"Sideswipe... no one should be alone, and we share your cause," Starscream told him, holding his hands out, both open, palms up to the mech. "Join with us, and let us help you?"

"I'm not interested in _your_ cause. I just want him, and Hot Rod -- no, wait, 'Rodimus'; deactivated and melted for girders," Sideswipe growled. "But you've got a point, both of you. Alright." He reached to his chest, hooking his fingers deep into the first layer of his paint to tear down, leaving the Autobot insignia rent from top to bottom.

Starscream winced a little, but then, he was the kind who really hated doing any damage. He stayed on the ground, looking back at Megatron for guidance.

::This is insane,:: Thundercracker pointed out. ::What if he's a trap, a walking timebomb?::

::I sensor-swept him intently,:: Skywarp pointed out. ::But yeah, what if he's got a dormant device?::

::Or he's just waiting to kill us in our sleep?:: Dirge threw out there.

::ALL OF YOU!:: Starscream almost never raised his voice, especially outside of battle, but his voice down the band was a shriek. ::Listen to yourselves! How badly hurt does a mech have to be for you to see the real pain? He lost a piece of his Ember...my sensors can see that! If you cannot accept that he would turn on the ones who did that, how will you ever accept that any Autobot can ever be free of the Prime's plans? Do you really intend to keep hunting until each and every one of them is deactivated, rather than show them a way to see truth and freedom as it is meant to be?!::

Megatron stilled in surprise, looking at Starscream with surprise that swiftly turned to pleasure and so very much pride. ::Starscream's right,:: he told the rest of the Seekers. ::We have to start somewhere.:: He looked at Sideswipe, extending one hand. "Welcome to Polyhex, then. And I'll have to see if I can convince you that what I believe is as worth fighting for as what you heard from Prime."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm no touchy feel-good mech at the best of times, and you slaggers just seem to keep getting lucky...but I'll take my shots at Prime and his pet brute boy where I get them." Still, he knew Sunstreaker would say what was polite, and he reached out to seal the deal.

Above, the Seekers all had to swallow any further vehemence, because Star was right. Unless they were going to be just as bad as their enemy, it was time to start converting, rather than destroying.

Megatron wrapped his hand around Sideswipe's, strong and sure, and flicked him a smile. "It's not luck. It's strategy. And I'm not asking you to change who you are."

He released Sideswipe's hand after only moments, and turned to walk with the other mech back into Polyhex, comming Soundwave with the astonishing, half-unbelievable news.

Soundwave threw his processors into the task of a Public Relations blitz on this one, because the war was old enough by now that most of the common rank and file of the army would freak out at a defector, but he could see the bonus involved. Shockwave readied security protocols as soon as the news bounced to his boards, even as he wondered what his boss was thinking. No matter what way it was sliced, this small event had just changed the face of the war entirely by opening up the question of if Autobots were worth saving after all.

`~`~`~`~`


	2. Abduction of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well into the war-effort now, Chromia manipulates a victory for the Autobots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Rape, spark(ember)/energy/tactile  
> 2\. spark(ember) reproduction methods

Chromia was still smarting from the vicious lashing Elita-1 had delivered for her failure in the latest raid on Polyhex. Both she and Ironhide had been told, in no uncertain terms, by their respective leaders, to either produce results, or their loyalty was most definitely in question.

The look in Prime's optics had left her feeling inadequately shielded, and Ironhide had smoldered in rough silence.

They left Iacon together, with their detachment, Ironhide grumbling where only she could hear him.

She would find a way to pull them out of this disgrace, with her canny wiles and his power. All she needed was the right angle of attack.

`~`~`~`~`

The mission was a simple recon and, if possible, acquisition run. Starscream knew that Skywarp was still in no shape for it, and as fast and sleek as Thundercracker was, there was never a doubt as to who was truly the faster in the air. No one thought much of it, with the intelligence that had been bought and then tested through every filter Soundwave could provide.

The scientist made sure none of his experiments were in critical stages, since he still had not lived down his embarrassment over the runaway energy goop from the last time, and then fueled up on his ration and Skywarp's for the day, since his friend and trine mate wasn't going to be flying anytime soon.

He didn't make much fuss about his leaving, doing only the standard check-out by logging his departure time with Soundwave, taking an indirect line from Polyhex to the supply point they had been tipped off to.

Soundwave knew how much time such a flight should take, how thorough Star would be on his recon, and how much time he would allot himself to acquire anything that could be acquired. He waited a full two cycles past when he thought Starscream should have returned to log the failure to do so with Shockwave.

A cycle past that, they both went to find Megatron.

Megatron lifted his helm, looking away from the datapad as his communications and tactics heads walked into his office, opening his mouth to greet them both -- and the words died in his vocalizer as he saw the expression on Soundwave's masked face and the way Shockwave's single optic darted to anywhere but his faceplates. Worry flashed through his processors, and the friendly greeting he had intended turned into a quick, terse, "What's wrong?"

"Starscream has not reported back in, Megatron," Shockwave managed to say for them, blurting it out in his too-fast way.

"There has been time, and then some, to make it home," Soundwave added, looking for all the world like he would rather be saying anything else.

"What was he doing?" Megatron asked, checking back through his memories to find the last time that he'd seen his second -- and the answer was longer ago than he would have preferred.

"We had a solid lead on a proper supply point near the Rad Zone, west of here." Soundwave handled this part of the briefing. He had been the one to procure the intelligence after all. "With the radical dude out of action, Star said he'd surf on by, and we worked it out."

Megatron took a second to parse that from 'Soundwave' into 'basic'. Skywarp and his ability to teleport had resulted in that nickname vorns ago, and the rest of it was simple. He nodded his understanding, and spoke. "That shouldn't have been complex.... but he should have been back cycles ago, no further than he intended to go."

"Exact-o-mundo," Soundwave said with a deep resonance of sorrow.

"I'm ready to go. Give me five mechs....I'll find him!" Shockwave immediately volunteered.

"Shockwave," Megatron said, gently chiding, "we will profit little by rushing off recklessly. Send Dirge and his trine to search to a klick from that point, first. Soundwave, I want their data displaying in real-time, with the Terrorcons ready to follow. It would take a great deal to bring Starscream out of the air without even time to call for aid." The very idea of it made his Ember go cold... Starscream was the single best flier he had, and though he hated combat he was more than proficient in it.

"Yes, Megatron!" both mechs said, before going to get it all organized to Megatron's wishes. They'd bring their friend home...somehow.

Megatron finished what had to be finished, and followed them up to the ready room. He wasn't looking forward to having to tell Skywarp and Thundercracker that Starscream had gone missing... best to wait until he had as much data as possible before he did.

`~`~`~`~`

Chromia smiled as her unit moved to secure the jetformer. That had been a most satisfying application of the energy reversing shield Wheeljack had created. She really would have to be certain he was rewarded...and then removed, so he could never turn such a thing on herself or Ironhide.

"What do we do with him now? He'll never betray his cause." Ironhide surveyed the offlined mech with contempt. What Prime had ever seen in someone who could so willingly walk away from true greatness like Prime had offered him...

"Oh, we don't need him to willingly betray his cause, Ironhide." Chromia pressed close to her mate of so long. "We'll craft a tool out of his brilliance to use for ourselves, and send him on as a gift to Prime."

Crimson optics glinted as the war-mech looked down at his femme. "Do tell me more. On our way to the base, as they'll be searching for him all too soon."

"But of course, Ironhide."

`~`~`~`~`

Thundercracker looked up as the door slid open to admit the leader of the Decepticons. Skywarp was completely out of it, in deep recharge, but Thundercracker's processors had been tingling all evening.

"Megatron..."

"Thundercracker. How is he?" their leader asked quietly, stepping in and letting the door slide shut again.

"He'll be fine. Just...you know how easy his processors scramble, poor guy." Thundercracker looked back at his mate. "He'll be up and flying soon."

"Good... we may need him very badly, soon. And yes, I do know." Megatron nodded, his jaw assembly tightening with what he needed to say. Needed to, and did not want to.

"Something happen?" Thundercracker refocused on the leader, always the most diligent of the trine in things like this. His circuits tingled all over again with that half-wrong sensation.

Megatron walked closer, getting his hand onto Thundercracker's shoulder before he spoke again. He knew how badly the most forceful of Starscream's trine was going to take this, and he wasn't looking forward to it. "...Starscream took what should have been a routine recon a few cycles ago. He's overdue. Dirge and Ramjet found signs of a crash, and Autobot tracks, on his flight path."

"Blast it! How many times have I told that pain in the aft that no recon is ever routine!" Thundercracker exploded, coming up and away from the berth, from Megatron, because right now the entire base was too confining. Starscream was as much his responsibility as Skywarp was, and now it looked like he was in enemy hands. They all knew the price on Star's head had little to do with deactivating him and a lot to do with Prime's personal...fixation.

"Right now, it looks like they laid a very deliberate trap for him. Dirge picked up some energy readings we've never seen before, Scavenger and Hook are working on them now," his leader added the information rather than try to calm Thundercracker down yet, watching the flare of his wide wings.

"I need to fly!" Maybe out there he could try and use the trine bond, pick him up that way. It wasn't likely, but it beat trying to figure it out from in here. He wasn't the fragging thinker; that was Star! He was supposed to protect Star!

"Thundercracker," Megatron called, waiting for the other mech to look at him before he continued. "I can't lose you, too. We don't know how they took Starscream out of the air. _Watch_ your aft until you get to Dirge and the others."

Thundercracker took a long moment to cycle air through his cooling fans, then slowly nodded. "Yes, Megatron." He then left, to launch himself into the freedom of the air as quickly as he could, only barely remembering to check his fuel before going.

`~`~`~`~`

Chromia watched as her mate very swiftly strapped the unconscious, for now, mech to the torture frame.

"He's quite well made; one can almost see why Prime wishes to possess him on the more physical level," she said, prompting Ironhide to wrench a restraint so tightly that the hydraulic lines were crimped shut in the captive's wrist.

"Prime's more concerned with his processors than his frame," Ironhide said gruffly.

"Good thing for us," Chromia purred, coming over to stroke a finger along Ironhide's weapon mounts. "That he wouldn't mind having the frame, after we secure him better use of the processors," she murmured. She looked and saw the beginning of energy returning to the optics of their captive, and smiled cruelly, stepping neatly out of the way. Ironhide had not been quite as perceptive, and received a solid kick from the leg he still needed to secure.

"Slaggin' 'Con!" Ironhide roared, belting the jetformer across the face with the back of his hand. Starscream's helm rattled from the blow, but he kept his voder from emitting the pain.

"Easy, Ironhide. We need him online to amp up his Ember's energies enough for the harvesting." Chromia moved once all the limbs, and the wings, had been secured, directly forcing the various energy-transfer ports open on the captive Decepticon. "Do help me, Ironhide. Just because he must be online, doesn't mean he should escape all your wishes for his torture."

Ironhide smiled at his beautiful, wicked, dangerous mate, and came to supply the energies needed, his shields flicking over Starscream's in anticipation.

"Let's see how well he holds back his screams in overload..." Ironhide said, before assaulting the other mech's shields with all the brutality of a war-mech. Starscream resisted, fighting him, trying to prevent the interfacing that would violate his Ember, his core processors, and his sense of security. However, strapped down, and that conniving femme's hands playing over his most sensitive sensors, were forcing him to be enveloped by the stronger mech's fields, bit by bit. Another volley of powerful energy was forced through his frame as Ironhide went for direct inputs, and Starscream felt control of his entire frame flee.

Shudders induced by the unregulated flow of energy gripped the frame of the Aerial Commander, second of all Decepticons. His optics were forced offline by the sheer weight of his processors moving over the experiences, leaving him trapped in their grip, the grip of nightmares. Autobot hands on him, mech and femme, violating his personal fields, opening armor plates never meant to be opened by strangers. His voice tore from his voder, high and unmanaged as the voltages pulsed high yet again, forcing his armor to open more for their intent. Starscream felt his energy levels dip to their lowest since his last upgrade on the heels of a pull at his Ember.

"I have it, beloved," Chromia said, her voice cruel and scratchy as she held the shard of an overloaded Ember in her hands, cradling it. She retreated from the torture chamber quickly, to go to the waiting femme she had chosen, had carefully built up to be ready for Creation. The femme would serve perfectly to balance the code, and provide a nurturing chamber until the new Ember was whole enough for framing.

"Optimus will reward us, Chromia," was Ironhide's call after her, before refocusing on the mech at his mercies. "Now..." Ironhide let his own Ember be exposed, now that the other's was far too weak to be a threat. "I take what I want, pretty flyboy."

Starscream was forced into unconsciousness by that next, brutal violation but not before his processors made full sense of what had just happened to him.

//I will get free, and I will be back. You will not keep the creation you produce from me!//


	3. Crystal Clear Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set far into the war, Crystal thinks he knows just what needs to happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Original characters  
> 2\. Work in progress as the muses strike.

***

Crystal sat perched high in one of Polyhex's myriad spires, tapping one white foot against the metal as he thought. He'd been learning to control his ability since the relays had gone into his systems during his second upgrade, the third had just increased the lessons somewhat. Having the full capability after his fourth upgrade... it hadn't bothered him for a while. He'd known how to handle it, known that it was something that he should only use if it was desperately needed, known to ask before he kicked it on -- but then he'd nearly drained Whirlwind, completely by accident. If Lightning Strike hadn't been right there, hadn't gotten his hands shoved between them and pulled Whirl away.... It didn't bear thinking about. They were his _trine_ , they shouldn't ever be in danger from him.

He knew that moment had left him with processor scars, and it had taken Bombshell (and his creator and foster-creator) a long while before he'd been convinced that it hadn't been his fault, that he hadn't known it was possible. He remembered how that had felt, and _hated_ it... not least of which for how good it had felt while it was happening. Power flooding him, filling all of his systems to capacity, so completely tied in with what Whirl was doing to him that he hadn't even realized what was happening. Not until Lightning was dragging them apart, and Whirl collapsed against his lower chestplates, so drained he was almost bisque-colored instead of his vibrant neon yellow. Then he'd known -- and Lightning had had to pull him out of the shock and the realization.

If he hadn't been with his trine... that would have been even worse. They'd gone to his Creator, and Starscream had helped, had installed a warning system that told him when his ability was being triggered, one he had to consciously shut off before he could use it. That had helped him get over that first time more than anything else, the fact that now he had a safeguard. But a conversation from a few cycles ago kept playing through his mind, repeating over and over. He'd been laying with Whirl and Lightning, all of them just... touching each other, and Lightning had pushed up enough to look at him, told him that if they ever got fragged bad enough, he'd better take what they could give and kick afterburner with it. Whirlwind had joined in with their trinemate, telling him Lightning was right, that if they were ever in that bad a shape Crys needed to drain them, use it to get out.

He didn't want to lose them. Didn't want to lose any of them -- he'd seen too many of his 'uncles' die already, in the cycles since he'd been kindled. He was so tired of this war...

If his friends, his own _trine_ , could _want_ him to drain their Embers dry -- well. He wasn't Megatron's foster-child for nothing. He hadn't spent years at Soundwave and Shockwave's feet not to understand that everything had at least two sides. Or that the gift that his Creator had given him to keep him safe -- might be the greatest weapon even his inventive Creator had ever come up with.

Not that anyone in the Army was going to agree with him that he ought to use it. They would all say it was too dangerous, there was too much chance of losing him, that it might go wrong and they could _both_ be deactivated. That he'd never tested his ability that far.

All of that was true. And it wasn't like he was going to test it on any of his extended family, so he couldn't know for certain. But he'd mastered his foster-father's link to the white hole when he needed to, kept it from harming any of the rest of them. He could handle Prime's Pits-cursed spark. Now it was just a matter of figuring out how best to go about that, and how to get into Iacon without being shot down.

Again. He wasn't Megatron's student for nothing, and there wasn't a surveillance file that he didn't have access to, one way or the other. Be it through Ravage or his own clearances, he'd find out what he needed.

***

Crystal tracked down Shockwave, waiting for the hyper laser-gunformer to notice him. Shockwave might be far too quick on the trigger, impulsive and emotional... but his processor-level instincts were almost always right.

Shockwave was moving between view screens, studying the lay out of multiple Autobot safeholds, trying to decide which one to hit next. When he paused and looked up to see Crystal, it made his optic glow brightly with warmth. "Hey Crys! How you shaking things today?"

"I leave that to TC, Shock," Crystal answered, coming over to look at the screens as well. "Not too bad, nothing to really complain about. Got a question, though."

"Always have answers, Little Bit," Shockwave said affectionately.

"...you know, I've been through three upgrades since you gave me that nickname," Crystal complained -- not that he really minded, the more playfulness he scattered around this, the better his chances of getting away with it were. "Don't you think it's about time to trash it?"

Shockwave stood to his full height, and still cleared the top of Crystal's head by a helm and more. "Nah, not really."

"Funny," Crystal muttered, looking up at that single optic with a shake of his helm. "Alright, alright, I get the point, stop looming, already."

Shockwave settled back into his more relaxed stance. "So what's new?"

"Shock... what do you do when you're sure you know what the right thing to do is... and you know just as much that somebody you care about is really going to hate it?"

"Do it," Shockwave said easily. "They care enough, they forgive you." His femme had hated a lot of his choices, but she still kept letting him back into the home they'd made.

"Yeah?"

Shockwave grinned. "Your trine? They'd forgive you anything." He misinterpreted the thrust of the question -- just like his young student had hoped he would.

Crystal relaxed, his wings flaring out a little in relief, and he smiled a little brighter. At least he'd have one ally, once this was all over -- and just like he'd hoped, Shockwave had gone for the obvious answer to who 'care about' was. And it wasn't like his trine _wasn't_ going to be upset if he pulled this off. They just... weren't the only ones. By kind of a long shot. "Thanks, Shock."

"No problemo."

The young Seeker grinned fully, and reached out to wrap his hand around one forearm. "See you later."

Shockwave squeezed, and nodded, before his attention was taken by something in one of the viewscreens.

Which let Crystal go ahead and get out while the getting was good and Shockwave was getting to feel like the older and wiser mech -- rare enough that it ought to keep him distracted from noticing the real answer to 'what's bothering Crystal' for just long enough. Crystal hoped so, at least.

***

It took a long few cycles before he had the time to get all of the data he wanted together. They had solid data on Iacon -- some of it he wasn't sure he wanted to know how they'd gotten -- on where the weaknesses in the security were, and even where Prime's quarters were. The idea of being surrounded by that much solid durasteel gave his processors a shudder, but he knew he could handle it. The more he thought about this, the more he wasn't sure he _would_ come back out of it... but it had to be done. Every single psych profile Blot had ever done of the Autobot army said that without Prime, it would splinter into factions within mere cycles. He was sure, down to his Ember, that any of those factions, the Decepticons could beat if they just didn't have Prime's power behind them.

It would be worth it, even if he didn't come back. Not that he was _planning_ on letting Prime have that kind of a victory. He wasn't. You never _planned_ for defeat. You plan to win first, to survive second, and still know what you're going to do if you fail. Shockwave had taught him that. But it would be worth it.

He just... wasn't going to leave his family without making sure they knew he loved them.

All of them.

***

He wandered down into the Terrorcon's area first, leaning in their doorway until Blot noticed him. "Hey, Crystal," the ogre-like psychologist called, waving one hand at him. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, Blot. You?"

"Eh, I'm fine. Dead End's having one of his sing-alongs tonight, you going to show up?"

Crystal grinned, nodding once. "Yeah, sure. Don't I normally?" //Oh, Dead End, thanks, guy. That'll be the perfect way for me to see almost everybody, without anyone thinking it's weird.// Gratitude to the other 'Con made him smile even wider. "Where is everybody? I was going to see if I could talk a story out of Hun-grr or Rippersnapper."

"You and your stories, Crys. Do you just have to feed 'Snapper's 'pay attention to me' thing?" Blot smiled at him even as he said it, though.

"What can I say? He's a good actor," Crys replied, grinning at the rotations' worth of memories of the Terrorcons all telling him stories and teaching him the history of their world and others.

"Yeah," Blot admitted with a quick smile, "he is."

"He," Rippersnapper said from behind them, "is right here. What story did you want, Crys? Been a while since you came down to talk to us."

"I know, I know... I've got my helm in the skies these days," Crystal said, trying to downplay the importance of the visit. "Doesn't mean I don't miss you all. I don't know, have you got any new ones?"

"Oh, a _challenge!_ " Rippersnapper said, walking over to take a seat where he could watch himself in one of the mirrors and be sure he was handling the parts perfectly. "Yeah, I think I've got one. Settle in, Crystal."

The Seeker dropped to a spot on the floor, watching Rippersnapper, and noticed with the edge of his sensors as the rest of the Terrorcons came out to listen to one of their own.

***

Once he extricated himself from the cheerful argument among the Terrorcons about one of the details in the story Rippersnapper was telling -- it wasn't a normal cycle for them until at least one argument started, they all found it fun -- Crystal headed for the Predacons' wing of the base, looking for Razorclaw and Rampage and Divebomb. He wasn't likely to stay with them long -- Divebomb didn't enjoy having his daydreams interrupted, Rampage was as bad as any Seeker about not staying focused on what was at hand, and Razorclaw was almost always hunting something -- but he wanted to see them.

Divebomb suddenly landed on his shoulder, making him jerk and twist his head to the side. "Hey, Dive."

"Not a good day," the giant bird-former told him, preening affectionately at one of his jet mounts with his bright orange beak. "Professor's in a temper, one of the Autobots got away from him. I'll tell 'em all you came by, though."

Crys sighed a little, lifting a hand to rub at one of Divebomb's eye ridges gently. "You do that, Dive. Thanks. He must really be in a mood if you're the one keeping people away..."

"He's got Rampage sicced on part of the security system for the Zone the 'Bot ran into," Divebomb explained, "so I said I would. Passive systems are great, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know... you guys taught me that trick." The Predacons had taught him a lot about hunting, not that some of it applied in the air, but still. He'd wanted to see all of them... but it wasn't worth upsetting an already on-edge Razorclaw. "See you later, alright?"

"Of course, Crystal," Divebomb nodded, and launched himself back to his perch.

Crys nodded and kept moving, bolstering himself with that 'of course'. "Oh, hey, Dead End's having a sing-along tonight, if Razorclaw gets his problem solved."

"Doubt it, but anything's possible," Divebomb chirped, shaking his head.

***

He ran into Dreadwind and Darkwing in the halls -- and fifteen minutes of vocalizer-shredding laughter later, he finally got away again. The duo had been practicing their newest jokes for the sing-along that night, and they'd decided they needed to test them on him. He was still wheezing a little when he reached the Insecticon quarters, and Bombshell and Kickback had hovered around him until he managed to explain that it was just Dreadwing being themselves. Then they'd settled, and he'd used passing the news of Dead End's plans for the night to explain why he was down in their territory.

Kickback had covered his audios theatrically at that point, making Bombshell ask if he was trying to compete with Rippersnapper. That had made Kickback jump irritatedly, long limbs waving, and Crystal had watched with amused as Shrapnel came out to laughingly settle the two of them back down – and they shooed him out the door with the warning that they had patients coming.

***

He leaned in the doorway of Astrotrain's great bay, watching Blitzwing, Fasttrack, and Submarauder at play across the shuttle's broad wings. It looked from where he was standing like a communal washing session had exploded into a game of 'sling cleaner everywhere and everyone watch their own optics' over something -- probably Fasttrack's fast mouth. Not for _anything_ was he getting in the middle of that mess.

"They're acting younger than you, Crystal," came the rumble of the transporter. "I'm just wondering if they'll have the energy left to get me clean?"

"Hey, Astrotrain," Crystal answered, grinning. "We don't call them the 'Mayhem Squad' for nothing? ...You know, I thought there was another word that's supposed to be in there, something about _stopping_ it?"

Astrotrain chuckled, though if he was amused at the jibe or the fact that the others still hadn't paid attention to Crystal's arrival was impossible to tell. "They'll settle eventually."

"Yeah, they will," Crystal agreed, still leaning in the door. "How've things been on your end the last couple cycles? I've had a project in mind."

"Same as ever. Figure out where we can best hit the Rogue Six, as hard as we can," Astrotrain said with a sigh about Rodimus's pains in the afts.

"Yeah... I hear you," Crystal agreed. "If we don't get those pains in the aft under some kind of control..." He shook his head, knowing the risks way too well. "That one... well. Dangerous for a ground-pounder, you know?"

"Don't I ever." Astrotrain huffed air out his vents at the thought of his so-often problem.

"You better than anyone, big guy," Crystal said, shaking his head again. "If they get you presentable before dark, Dead End's on a 'we need together-time' kick again."

"Well, if they have it in an area big enough, I'll be there," he promised Crys.

"Alright. See you, 'Train."

***

He hadn't expected to see Sideswipe out in the corridors -- the former Autobot typically kept to himself, as the depth of his grudge against Prime not something most of the Decepticons dealt with well. But he smiled at the green and black mech, nodding once. "Hey, Sideswipe."

"Crys." Sides owed a lot to Starscream, as the Seeker was often the one hauling him out from under his former allies in a fight. "What you up to?"

"Not a whole lot, right now. Checking on people, spreading the word that Dead End wants to have one of his parties... you know. The usual," Crystal shrugged a shoulder, spreading his hands a little.

"Think I'll pass on that," Sides told him, his expression a little bit disdainful.

Crystal gave him a long, steady look... and then gave up and smiled. There were some things that just weren't easy to change. "I can't say that I expected you to say anything else, Sides."

Sideswipe gave him a slow grin in response. "You know, I'm okay with your creators, because they get me. The others... not so much."

"Yeah, I know. It's... just one of those things. But you've always been good to me -- ought to be a good excuse for you to stretch your wheels, though. If a lot of us are down in the base..."

Sides nodded at that. "Might be. Heard a rumor about a possibly energy dump out in the ghost zone..."

"Yeah? That ought to be worth checking out," Crystal said, instantly interested. "Good luck with it, if you decide to go."

"I don't count on luck... ran out of it when Megs believed me, I think."

"Have to give you that," Crystal said after a moment, nodding a little before he stretched a hand out, laying it on the outer part of one shoulder for a moment. "Make it 'watch your aft', then."

"That I can do." Sides reached up and patted the hand, before going on about his way.

***

The Constructicons were busy when he stepped through the barely-open door of their workspace, so he leaned right back against the door, waiting for one of them to pay attention. Scrapper looked up for a minute, waving some unrecognizable tool his way. "Kinda busy, kid, what's shaking?"

"Other than this half of the base?!" Crys yelled above the noise of their latest project, grinning across the room at him. "Dead End wants to have one of his events tonight!"

"What, he's got you playing messenger?" Mixmaster asked, his massive barrel turning with some combination of chemicals.

Crystal shook his head, then raised his voice again. "No, I just seem to be all over the base this cycle, figured I might as well help out."

"Alright, we'll be there," Scavenger said, nodding, "if we can get this done before he starts up, that is."

Hook made a long, amused noise, shifting on his frame, "We'll get it, Scav, never fear. See you there, Crys."

"Sure, Hook. I'll get out of your gears, looks like you need all of your processors on what you're up to," Crystal told them, getting back out of the chaos of the foundry area, shaking his helm to clear overloaded sensors.

***

He spent a long part of the evening with the crowd of Decepticons partying through Dead End's sing-along, moving between all of them, just letting the ways that they reacted to him settle deep into his Ember -- he was going to need it, he was almost certain.

He wound up half-leaning against Shockwave for a minute, letting the happily chaotic feel of his fields slide along his own and reassure him against what he had planned.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Parting of Paths, For Now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/384396) by [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly)




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